


A Fighting Chance

by SlytherinSweetheart (Cherrypie62666)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Cute Moments, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Friendship, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Forced Cooperation, Gryffindor Lance, Head Boy Keith, Hogwarts AU, Hothead Lance, Hufflepuff Hunk, Hurt/Comfort, I need to say once again this is a really long fic, I promise, If this fic is 200k by the end I won't be surprised, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lengthy Fic, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Potential Expulsion, Punishments, Quidditch Captain Lance, Ravenclaw Pidge, Really slow development, Rivalry, Slow Burn, Slytherin Keith, Starts bad but does get better, Super slowest burn, but it does get better, klance, switching POVs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-22 22:24:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 56,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10706373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherrypie62666/pseuds/SlytherinSweetheart
Summary: The compartment door slid open a crack and a tan-skinned face peeked in.  Finding the place practically empty, the young boy opened the door the rest of the way and stepped past the threshold.  His eyes were blue like the ocean with flecks of grey and white, his hair the color of coffee and kept relatively close to his skull.  The hints of freckles could be seen along his nose; and when he smiled shyly, one dimple showing itself in his left cheek, Keith felt his heart flutter at the sight.“Hi, can I maybe sit with you, please?  My friends aren’t on the train yet, but they’re really nice.”Keith blinked at the boy before nodding his head.  “Sure, there’s plenty of room.”The boy beamed at that, shuffling inside with a small owl cage in one hand, closing the compartment back up with his other.  “I’m Lance, by the way.  Lance McClain.  What’s your name?”“I’m Keith Kogane.  Nice to meet you, Lance.”---Or A Hogwarts AU.  Before Cursed Child, but after Deathly Hallows.





	1. Welcome to Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I debated making this be solely a Voltron fandom tag, but then realized the Harry Potter fans could potentially be both?  
> I apologize if you clicked this by accident expecting something different.  
> Sadly, it'll only be characters that are either always in Hogwarts, or are a part of the Voltron fandom.  
> I got this idea like super randomly, and I didn't check to see if anyone else did anything similar yet. Like most ideas, I assume I am not the first, nor the last!  
> I also chose my HP pseud over my other one, since technically this is more of a Hogwarts fic than anything.  
> I'm rambling, like I tend to do.

The very first time Keith stepped onto the Hogwarts Express, he felt like the world was at his fingertips.  His older brother, Shiro, had been attending the Wizarding school for three years at that point, moving on into his fourth year, and Keith already knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he, too, wanted to be sorted into Gryffindor house. 

It was by far the greatest house, not only because his favorite color was red, and not only because of Shiro, those were both huge underlying factors; but because the great Harry Potter had been in Gryffindor, and it had been his dream ever since he’d learned about him to follow in his footsteps.  He’d find friends, they’d form a perfect team, and Hogwarts would remember their names forever.

That dream died the moment he met the most obnoxious person on the face of the planet.

Keith chose a compartment in the back, empty of course, and waited patiently for the train to begin their journey.  It was still early, his family arriving well before most, so the students were still shuffling their way on.  He had a brand-new wand, his black cat he’d happily named Binx, and a cheerful disposition that this year was going to be the start of a great adventure.

The compartment door slid open a crack and a tan-skinned face peeked in.  Finding the place practically empty, the young boy opened the door the rest of the way and stepped past the threshold.  His eyes were blue like the ocean with flecks of grey and white, his hair the color of coffee and kept relatively close to his skull.  The hints of freckles could be seen along his nose, and when he smiled shyly, one dimple showing itself in his left cheek, Keith felt his heart flutter at the sight.

“Hi, can I maybe sit with you, please?  My friends aren’t on the train yet, but they’re really nice.”

Keith blinked at the boy before nodding his head.  “Sure, there’s plenty of room.”

The boy beamed at that, shuffling inside with a small owl cage in one hand, closing the compartment back up with his other.  “I’m Lance, by the way.  Lance McClain.  What’s your name?”

“I’m Keith Kogane.  Nice to meet you, Lance.”

“Likewise,” the boy hummed, taking the spot across from him.  Kicking his legs back and forth, he wiggled a little in his seat.  “So, what house do you want to be sorted into?  I’m guessing you’re a first year because you look as nervous as I feel.”

Keith chuckled, nodding his head.  “I want Gryffindor, though I won’t be too disappointed if I get something else, like Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.  Just not Slytherin.”

“Yeah?  Me too!  All my brothers and sisters have been in Gryffindor.  I pretty much just figured I’d get in since it clearly runs in the bloodline or whatever.  Both my parents were Gryffindor, too.”  He smiled proudly.  “Hey, if we both get in, that means we’ll be dormmates.  We could be like, best friends or whatever.”

A smile broke out across his face; this was one of those very things he’d hoped to find.  Here he was, not even inside the castle, and already there was the potential for a bond that would last for years.  Images flashed across his brain, things that hadn’t happened but still could.  Classes he’d take, memories he’d relish forever.  Hogwarts was going to be amazing, he could tell.

“Is that a cat?  Man, cats are so lame.  Why didn’t you get an owl instead?”

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Keith frowned.  Lance was eyeing Binx like she was something gross, and he felt a protective fierceness bubble inside of him.  “Cats aren’t lame,” he retorted haughtily.  “If anything, owls are lame.”

Lance scrunched up his face strangely.  “No, they’re not.  They can send messages to whomever you want, and Harry Potter had an owl.  I named mine Nyra,” he said proudly, lifting off the cage covering to reveal the snowy barn owl beneath.  Large orange eyes blinked sleepily back, the poor thing looking a little confused.

Keith rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, but they have to live in the Owlry the whole time.  How is that cool?  What’s the point of having a pet if you don’t get to see it ever?  And besides, the school has owls, you can send anything with one of them.  A cat can sleep with you at night.”

“Cats are mean and don’t like affection.”

“And I suppose owls do,” he asked, feeling his irritation levels rising.  Why was this even a discussion they were having?  Why did he feel the need to argue back with such conviction?

Lance’s face went pink as he opened the cage loudly and shoved his hand inside.  Nyra cried a horrible sound, nipping at his finger and causing it to bleed.  “Ouch! Nyra, what has gotten into you?  I’m just trying to show this idiot that you can be loads affectionate.”

Keith snorted at that.  “Yeah, and I suppose the blood is just little drops of love leaking from your finger.”  Opening Binx’s enclosure, the cat slid out, curling up on his lap and purring like a little motorbike.  “There’s a good girl,” he cooed at the cat as he stroked her head, earning a mewl and yawn in response as she closed her multicolored eyes (one blue one green) and went to sleep.

Lance huffed but didn’t argue further, a strange hush falling over the compartment.  It wasn’t long before two other children poked their heads in, one a short girl with a boy’s haircut named Katie, the other a sturdy looking tank of a kid with deeply tanned skin and black hair named Hunk.  Katie asked to be referred to as Pidge, Hunk assured that was his actual given name, and then the three friends more or less ignored Keith at the behest of their ringleader.

Lance hadn’t exactly said those words, but anytime the two tried to strike up a friendly conversation, he’d shut it down by talking over them, or else asking something that put them in the awkward position of being in obligation to respond to him instead.  It didn’t so much hurt Keith’s feelings as it pissed him off, especially when the two shot him apologetic looks for hours because of it.

Keith just tuned them all out and pulled out his book, getting lost in the pages until a prefect popped their head in and informed the lot of them to get dressed in their robes.  After that, it was a quick boat ride up to the castle, and while most of the students were buzzing with nerves and excitement, Keith was suddenly rethinking his lifelong dreams.

If being in Gryffindor meant having to spend seven years around trying and failing to be a lady’s man Lance, he would happily give that up to remain far away from him.  Preferably in a place that he could shine brightly, and outshine the idiot easily.  That meant he had only one choice.

When his name was called, he slipped quietly up to the little stool, expression stoic and calm as the sorting hat came down upon his head.  The hat spoke to him almost immediately, sensing his resolve to be great, his growing determination to put Lance in his place, and his intelligence to enact it all without breaking much of a sweat. 

It told him he could be great in Gryffindor, would excel at Ravenclaw, and that even Hufflepuff would benefit greatly from his kind heart.  He dismissed all that, knowing all too well that the hat knew what truly lay within his heart.  _Slytherin, you will become someone great there._

 _Yes,_ he agreed, eager to hear it announced out loud.

The loud eruption of applause broke out from the far table, and he happily went to join his new house, but not before he turned and shot a wicked smile Lance’s direction.  The boy narrowed his eyes, the emotions evident on his face.  Lance always knew they were destined to be rivals, and now they finally could be.

The obnoxious fool was placed in his precious Gryffindor, while Pidge took her seat at Ravenclaw, and Hunk took his at Hufflepuff.  All four of them were split up from one another, but the only one who stood on the opposing side was Keith.  It was already clear to him, from that day forward none of them could ever be friends.

* * *

 

Their rivalry grew throughout the years, in any classes they found themselves sharing, even over silly things like who could be the better model student.  Because the both of them strived so hard to be perfect, both boys were awarded a prefect position in their fourth years, which meant there were a lot of docked points mysteriously in those two houses.

Lance joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team around the same time, moving up through the years and awarding the team victory almost every game.  When it got too difficult for him to be both a player and a prefect, he decided to continue Quidditch, aiming instead for the Captain spot, which he got; while Keith was successful in maintaining his prefect position until finally being awarded Head Boy in his seventh year.

Katie Holt, also known as Pidge, became Head Girl but forwent the chance to have her own private dorm space located on the ground level when she claimed the Ravenclaw tower’s wide open areas were better equipped for her continued experiments.  Keith didn’t complain, it meant he got the entire private space to himself, which was how he preferred things to be, anyhow.

The start of his seventh year was bittersweet, reflecting back on the boy he was that very first day at Hogwarts, comparing him to the person he had become.

Keith, for lack of a better term, was a loner.  It wasn’t that he didn’t like his fellow Slytherins, because he truly felt like he belonged in their house after realizing just how competitive and cunning he really was.  He just also happened to be a half-blood, which meant prejudices were still a little high, and so he never tried hard to make lasting friendships.

He spoke to Hunk and Katie whenever they shared classes, outside the ever watchful and disapproving eye of their idiot friend.  Neither cared about Lance’s stupid reasons for disliking Keith, but when it came down to it, they were both still his closest friends, which meant Keith kept his respectful distances and only kept up civil chit chat so as not to give himself more enemies in the long run.  One was quite a handful enough.

Mostly, he focused himself on studies, vowing to finish his dream of becoming an Auror, as that was at least something achievable.  No one dared to question a Slytherin working toward a job of catching and detaining dark wizards, at least not where Keith was concerned. 

It was clear from the beginning he was not like his housemates; he was kind-hearted and helpful to anyone in need, never caring about the other’s petty squabbles with any other house, and showing on more than one occasion that he’d never hesitate to dock points accordingly, even if it hurt himself.

In the end, there was only one person he cared about proving himself better than, and thus far, he’d done a fabulous job of it.

This also meant the two boys shared many detentions together after their silly rivalry turned to dangerous explosions, classroom disturbances, or actual fist fights while passing through the halls.  Lance had a nasty habit of calling him childish nicknames, mullet being one of them, and he had a nasty habit of punching Lance in the face. 

It would have made sense just to fire off an untraceable hex, laugh as the other grew hair out his nostrils or ran from his own bogeys; but there was just something so much more satisfying about kissing that pretty face with his knuckles, assuring himself that thinking of it in such terms in no way meant he’d like to actually kiss the idiot.  Even if he was undeniably attractive, Keith had standards.  Mostly.

McGonagall grew tired of their fights, forcing them to cooperate on several occasions, allthewhile sighing at them in exasperation, muttering under her breath how she was too old for another Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry.  What the Headmistress failed to see, what most did in the end, was that the rivalry between the two stemmed much deeper than silly things like house superiority.  It was personal.

Keith wanted to crush Lance into a broken heap on the floor, prove to him that there was always going to be someone better than him at every subject, every action, everything imaginable.  If it weren’t for his hatred of sports he would have proved himself the better Captain, and assured Slytherin always took the house cup; but in the end, he didn’t care enough to try.  The same as Lance didn’t care enough to make Head Boy over him, they would always vary slightly in their interests.

As for why Lance was so bent on their rivalry, he couldn’t say, but it had definitely started on that fateful day.  Lance was hotheaded and sought Keith out specifically for the intent of getting under his skin, which would have been slightly more annoying had Keith not usually been able to best him publicly. 

It was always ‘hey mullet, bet you can’t,’ followed by Lance’s bright red face when Keith did _exactly that_ and walked away feeling good about himself.  The challenges never stopped, but he didn’t mind.  In a way, it gave him a sick sense of purpose, and a way to kill time.  If there was one thing Keith was in desperate need of, it was a way to fill up the free hours with something more than studying and books.

He didn’t know he’d get his wish, or that it would end up being a nightmare.

* * *

 

Lance pushed past him in the hall, purposefully knocking into his shoulder so his armload of books tumbled loudly to the floor.  Casting a quick glance back, his blue eyes twinkled with wicked glee, lips stretching upward on one side in a satisfied smirk.  “Oops, sorry mullet.  Didn’t see you there.”

Keith rolled his eyes, biting his tongue in favor of collecting his belongings and ignoring the childish behavior.  Lance would probably never grow up, but that didn’t mean he needed to stoop to his level and engage him every single time. 

Feeling a small trickle of his own satisfaction at Lance’s annoyed huff, he collected his things slowly, hearing the telltale sound of feet stomping off down the hall before he dared to look up.  “Idiot,” he muttered under his breath, finishing the up the pile before rising to his feet. 

Unfortunately for him, the very next class he was headed to was Herbology, which meant he’d be seeing Lance there and would probably have to deal with childish taunts directed at him for the next hour or so.  It didn’t matter, Keith was good at blocking it out, caring more about maintaining his grade than he did about scratching the terrible itch that was getting the idiot back.

The class was long, the new professor seemingly a little nervous as he reiterated the explanation on how to successfully extract the green pulsating pods from the Snargaluff plants that sat in various places about the room.  So as to encourage them to break out of their shells, Professor Longbottom made sure they grouped in pairs, then chose at random which set of Slytherins and Gryffindors would be working together for the rest of the class.  It was just his luck that Lance happened to be on his team.

Keith and a Gryffindor boy he didn’t know by name, Mark or Marvin or something like that, were agreed upon to be the retrievers of the pods, while Lance and his fellow Slytherin Genevieve Lewette were to be the ones who prevented the two from being attacked.

As they approached the seemingly ordinary piece of wood, long tentacle-like vines covered in huge thorns shot out at them, wrapping protective layers around the wood so it resembled a large thorny bush, as well as trying to whip at their bodies to prevent them from coming any closer.  Lance and Genevieve got straight to work, using the stunning spell to keep them all firmly in place.

His Gryffindor companion went first, reaching his arm inside a gooey looking center up to the elbow, before pulling out a large grapefruit sized green pod, a look of happy triumph playing out over his chubby freckled face.

“Nice one, Marcus,” Lance whooped, high-fiving the stout boy as he walked past to plop his prize down upon the table with a grin.

Genevieve rolled her stormy grey eyes, wand still out as she concentrated hard on keeping the plant contained.  “Alright, your turn, Keith,” she said sweetly, offering him an encouraging smile.

With a nod, he caught sight of Lance’s scowl before turning back to the Snargaluff with a wince.  Nothing about this situation seemed pleasant, but he wasn’t about to chicken out when it was made pretty obvious that the same kind of test may very well be on their N.E.W.T.s.  With a sigh, he rolled up his sleeve, mentally preparing himself for the dreaded act.

The creepy vines twitched slightly as he closed in, fighting hard against the stunning spell to continue protecting its prize.  Keith made a disgusted face before reaching inside the very center, closing eyes tight against the nasty sensation of warm, wet mucus.  His fingers brushed something large and firm, around the same size as a grapefruit, but feeling more like an egg.  It tickled the skin of his hand as he retracted it slowly, making sure not to catch his clothing on any of the scary looking thorns.

When he was free, he inspected the glowing orb clinically for a moment, holding it up to show his blonde partner as she beamed at him happily.  Their grade would be passing for the day, and they’d already managed to finish with enough time to laze about.

Lance sneered as their eyes made contact, but he ignored the moron, not wanting to get into any sort of fight in the middle of class.  Just as he stepped away from the strange plant, Genevieve’s eyes widened in surprise, and he spun around, very narrowly dodging the attacking vine as it attempted to curl around his throat.

Stumbling back and out of harm's way, the many armed thing returned to a piece of innocent looking wood, waiting patiently for the next person foolish enough to get too close.

Keith spun on the smirking Gryffindor, pointing a finger of accusation straight into his chest.  “You did that on purpose, McClain.  I should dock points for that.”

Lance rolled his ocean blue eyes, smacking the offending hand away from his person.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, mullet.  I didn’t do anything wrong, and there isn’t a way to prove that I did.”

Clenching his jaw to keep from throttling the infuriating boy, he stomped his way back to his seat, knocking into the other’s shoulder hard in a replication of their previous day’s encounter.   Turning around with wide and innocent eyes, he feigned concern as Lance grabbed his right arm and swore under his breath.  “Oops, sorry.  Guess I didn’t see you there.”

Lance snarled in anger, pulling out his wand and pointing it in the other’s face.  “You fucking asshole, that’s my Quidditch arm and you know it.  If you throw off our game this weekend, I’ll hex you into next month.”

With a cocky smirk, Keith folded arms over his chest, the picture of cool collectedness.  “Threatening the Head Boy, now?  Wow, McClain, I thought you were smarter than that.  Guess I gave your two brain cells too much credit.”

Genevieve giggled at the slight, but Lance’s eyes narrowed menacingly.  “I don’t give a shit if you’re the Minister for Magic.  If you fuck with me, I will end you.”

“Ten points from Gryffindor for threats and inappropriate language in a classroom setting,” Keith drawled, looking bored.  “If you keep it up, I’ll have to make a recommendation that the Captain sits detention instead of attending the game.”

Lance seethed.  “You wouldn’t dare, mullet.”

Keith smirked.  “Try me, asshole.”

Lowering his wand, it seemed like the other had given up the fight.  He shot the two Slytherins dirty looks before turning around to leave.  At the last moment, he spun back, fist coming out of nowhere to connect painfully with the side of Keith’s jaw.  “Fuck you,” he spat, venom lacing his voice.

Keith’s head snapped back painfully, taking a moment to realize what exactly had just happened.  Once his brain caught up, he lunged forward, tackling the unsuspecting Gryffindor to the ground before proceeding to attempt to hit any and every exposed area with his fists.

Lance blocked to the best of his ability, throwing arms over his head and face, taking the worst of the attack along his arms.  Keith was half straddling the boy, so his punches weren’t full force, but they were sure to leave bruises along the sensitive flesh.

Lance bucked up after a moment, sending Keith flying forward over him, twisting his torso at that moment to try and get the upper hand.  The two scrambled along the floor messily, both trying to claim victory, when a sudden force knocked them both back hard, pinning them to two separate walls.

Professor Longbottom wore an angry frown on his otherwise happy face, flicking his attention back and forth between the two of them.  “That’s it.  This is a zero-tolerance area, both of you are coming with me to the Headmistress’ office immediately.  You, Genevieve.”  The girl looked up with wide eyes.  “Watch the class until I can return.  I shouldn’t be more than fifteen at most.”

She gave a firm nod, mouth set in a tight line.  Before the professor could release the spell, she cleared her throat to retrieve his attention.  “For what it’s worth, professor, Lance did start it.  He stopped the stunning spell that kept the Snargaluff from moving, and it almost attacked Keith.  Then he got mad when the Head Boy threatened him with detention for being snippy and rude.”

The professor gave an exasperated sigh.  “Yes, I am quite aware of what happened, Ms. Lewette.  I will inform the Headmistress that both parties are equally to blame.”  With that, the two detained boys fell forward from their respective prisons.  “Come along, gentlemen.  Do keep up.”

* * *

 

McGonagall stared at their ashamed faces from her high-backed chair in the dimly lit office, the same office she used as Gryffindor’s head of house, as well as for her position as the Transfiguration Professor some years prior.  Lips pursed, brows sitting low, she peered from over her half-moon spectacles like they were an unclean spot on her otherwise pristinely white cup.

“I am quite tired of seeing both of your faces inside my office for reasons such as these, gentlemen,” she stated quietly, her crisp Scottish accent sounding clipped and unamused.

Both of them sank down a little further into their seats, the chorus of “We’re sorry” sounding almost rehearsed.

“Sorry?  You were sorry in your first year when you disrupted the potions classroom and burned a hole into the floor because you shoved Mr. Kogane’s cauldron off his desk.  And you, you were sorry in fourth year when you tripped Mr. McClain in front of the revolving staircase and he had to spend two days in the infirmary to regrow his broken arm bone.  Sorry does not cut it this time, boys.  Sorry isn’t enough.”

Keith and Lance shared a worried look, afraid of whatever punishment the terrifying woman had in store for them next.

“I am ashamed of your actions.  You, the Head Boy of this school, and you, the Captain of Gryffindor’s Quidditch team.  Both of you have excellent marks in all of your classes, both of you are supposed to be a role model to those younger than you, and yet here you sit, month after month, for the same exact reasons.  I have half a mind to strip you both of your titles, or quite possibly send you home on the next train and forbid you to come back.”

Keith’s eyes widened in shock, feeling his stomach drop hard at the idea of losing his chance to follow his dreams.  “Headmistress, please.  Don’t… don’t expel us.”

“Y-Yeah, we’ll stop.  No more disruptions, no more fights,” Lance echoed, looking just as terrified as Keith felt.

McGonagall assessed them, eyes skipping back and forth as her fingers came to steeple below her chin.  “Judging by your exams, your choices in N.E.W.T. level classes, both of you boys are trying to become Aurors, am I correct?”

Keith frowned, shooting Lance a sidelong glance, but he was too busy nodding stiffly to look back.  That was news to him, not that he’d ever asked the idiot what he wanted to do outside of Hogwarts.  They weren’t friends, so it didn’t matter.

“Both of you want to join a field where teamwork and cooperation are of dire necessity, could be the very thing that saves your lives, yet you two can’t be in the same room together without trying to kill the other.”  The Headmistress gave them both a sour look, causing Keith to duck his head in shame.

“What if you found yourselves hunting down a dark wizard for the ministry, would you be able to act as a team, or would you get yourselves killed because you can’t seem to?  How do you expect to work in such a field if you can’t keep petty disputes under check?  No, gentlemen.  I am not going to expel you.  I’m going to force you to work together, and if you cannot, then kiss your career choice goodbye.”

“Ma’am,” Keith asked hesitantly.

“W-What do you mean,” Lance’s voice squeaked out an octave higher than normal.

McGonagall sat back into her seat, mulling something over.  “You both take the same classes, correct?”

Keith frowned.  “I wouldn’t know, I didn’t even know Lance wanted to become an Auror.  I suppose we probably do.”

Lance nodded in agreement but kept quiet.

The Headmistress pursed her lips.  “Then from this point forward the two of you will be attending all classes together.  I will work out a schedule that will begin immediately, and you will remain permanent partners throughout the school year.  Mr. Kogane, you no longer have the Head dorm to yourself, Mr. McClain will be your new roommate.  Everything you do, everywhere you go, it will be together.”

“But my Quidditch practices,” Lance whined.

“Head Boy duties,” Keith echoed.

McGonagall gave a curt nod.  “Figure out a schedule that can fit both.  If either one of you is found outside the dorm without the other, it’ll be a strike against you both.  Three strikes and you will leave my school.  Do I make myself clear?”

Lance and Keith nodded in unison.

“It’s settled then.  Mr. McClain, pack up your belongings.  The elves will send your trunk to the Head dorm by this evening.  You may resume your original schedule for the rest of the day, but come curfew, your punishment begins.  I expect you to take this seriously.  I will be asking for weekly reports on your progress.  It is my goal to teach you cooperation, but I will settle for learning how to contain your emotions from now on.  You are dismissed.  Try to stay out of trouble.”

The two shuffled out of the room with grief-stricken faces.  As the door shut quietly behind them, it sounded a little too close to the sealing of a coffin lid enclosing them both inside their own personal tomb.  Casting a hesitant glance at each other, the two turned around, heading off their separate ways.  Hopefully, they could make it through the year.  Somehow, Keith doubted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you just love forced situations of friendship and all that lovely jazz?  
> I adore enemies to lovers, it's so much more fun to make people angry than it is to make them lovey dovey.  
> This, as can be expected of me, shall be a loooooong fic. If you don't know me, you don't know that, but I am all about the lengthy exploration of things.  
> Switched POVs will be happening!  
> Lots of things will be happening.  
> I am excited.
> 
> Comments are so appreciated as they keep me focused and let me know how things are going.  
> Don't like something? You can tell me.  
> Love something? Even better.  
> Chat me up, I love to ramble.


	2. Reluctant acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance deals with the remainder of his freedom, before succumbing to his terrible fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for Lance POV!

Lance stomped his way back to the Gryffindor common room, forgoing the rest of his classes for the day out of a childish need to protest this insane decision.  Of course, he knew it would only end up hurting him in the end, but in the midst of a sea of churning emotions, logic did not win out.  He paused at the portrait of the Fat Lady, momentarily forgetting the password in his oversensitive state.

She eyed him skeptically for a moment, before crossing arms over her chest.  “No password, no admittance.”

Lance felt his face take on a wicked sneer.  “Seriously?  You’ve known me for seven fucking years, how do you still think I might not belong here?”

Turning up her nose, the portly lady huffed.  “How do I know you aren’t a liar or an imposter?  Polyjuiced?  I have seen it all in my time, dear boy.  No password, no admittance.  You can sleep out in the hallway for all I care.”

Wracking his brain, the stupid thing came to him.  “Blast-Ended Skrewt,” he muttered, wishing he could blast the stupid portrait who until that very moment he never thought he’d miss.  Funny how quickly thing changed when you found yourself forced from your comfort zone.

The lady clapped her hands happily, the portrait swinging open.  Stomping his way up to the seventh year boy’s dorms, he threw open the door, flinging himself down upon his bed quite unceremoniously.  Never again would he get to listen to the comforting sounds of Marcus’ snoring.  Never again would he be woken in the night by Jared’s asthma attacks.

Now he’d have to spend his afternoons following around the mullet, which meant he was more than likely going to be trapped inside a confining room for the rest of the year, where the walls were too narrow to contain all of their hatred, and he’d probably end up committing murder by the end of the week.  Even Azkaban sounded a hair less stifling, and they had dementors.

It was just his shitty luck to find himself in this position.  Anyone else would have been given another detention and sent along their merry way.  He wasn’t sure which higher power he’d pissed off to incite this sort of horrible punishment, but it was clear to him that he’d need to repent.

This year was supposed to be the icing on the cake of his perfect Hogwarts stay, and now everything had gone to shit.

Okay, so it wasn’t the most perfect experience of his entire life, but he had finally gotten Nyma to agree to go out with him, and now it was over before it even had a chance to start.  There was no way mullet would agree to follow him around on a date, not that he’d enjoy himself much anyway, and he wasn’t about to attempt sneaking out and risk expulsion just for one girl. 

Even if she was super beautiful.  And nice.  Popular.  The bane of his existence and object of his affection since second year…

Fate truly was a cruel, cruel mistress.

Burrowing his head into the soft pillow, he screamed out the tension steadily building up inside his chest, until it became a dull ache that was a fraction easier to handle than before.  He could do this.  Really, he could.  Just because the two had to remain in the immediate area didn’t mean they had to communicate.  They wouldn’t need to touch, and they wouldn’t need to talk.  Everything would be peachy.

Pushing himself upright, he began the tedious task of packing up his belongings into his trunk.  It wasn’t really much of a task, to begin with, classes had only started up one week prior, so most of his belongings remained inside.  His broom was down at the pitch along with the rest of the team’s, his books already tucked away inside his school bag for the most part.

Plucking his dirty clothes off the floor, he stuffed them inside, then locked the lid magically.  That would keep anyone besides himself from taking a peek; and while he trusted the elves not to encroach upon his privacy, he didn’t trust Keith as far as he could throw him.  Which was probably pretty far, considering the dude looked like he weighed less than a child.  How he still managed to have a mean right hook was a little impressive, not that Lance would admit it aloud.

With one final look around the dorm, he shuffled out quietly, finally able to accept his grim fate.

* * *

 

There was still a little while until dinner started, but Lance couldn’t bring himself to wait that long for food.  He also didn’t want to face the rest of his house, explaining to those who saw the scuffle happen that he wasn’t going to be staying with them anymore.  Something told him Keith wasn’t going to happily sit at the Gryffindor table, not that they’d accept him; and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to sit with a bunch of pompous Slytherin.

Did the Head Boy even eat with them anymore?  He couldn’t remember.

Shaking his head to rid it of silly thoughts, he marched his way down to the kitchens.  The portrait that hung over the entrance was a bowl of fruit, and though it looked like any other of the numerous paintings inside the castle, the dead give-away that it was something more was the fact it was so very ordinary.  Reaching a hand up, he tickled the pear, wincing as the thing released a high trill of laughter before changing into a green knob.

Honestly, other than first years it was likely that half the school knew how to get inside.  It was a little strange to him that it was kept such a secret from the students, and yet so easy to access if one knew how.  Most of the Hufflepuffs knew from their very first day, which is probably how word kept getting around to the rest of them.  Pushing the door open, he stepped inside.

The room was warm, far more than he expected it to be, with house elves bustling about prepping meals and readying dishes.  It wasn’t his first time inside, but he’d never seen the place look so swamped, and wondered briefly if he shouldn’t just give up and try again later.  House-elves would drop anything and fix a student something to eat, but he still felt guilty even thinking about it when they weren’t just mulling about like usual. 

Spinning around, he resolved to try back later, when a familiar voice drifted up from the racket of clinking pots and pans, bringing a smile to his lips.

“Lance!  Hey buddy, what brings you down here at a time like this?  Don’t you have a class right now?”

Turning back, he caught Hunk’s happy grin, face dusted lightly in what appeared to be flour.  His robes were discarded over the back of a chair, white sleeves rolled up to the elbow, yellow and black tie hanging loosely around his neck.  The fabric of his trousers was quite filthy, as if he used them as a rag; with bits of dough stuck here and there, while he rolled out a large lump of something with a pin.

“Hey, Hunk.  I skipped today, major headache.  Just wanted to grab something to snack on before I kiss my freedom goodbye for good.”

Hunk gave him a curious look, cocking an eyebrow.  “What do you mean?  And you never skip classes, Lance.  Is everything okay?”

Pulling up an unused chair, Lance straddled the thing backward, crossing arms along the back and resting his chin atop his hand.  His lip pouted out slightly before a sigh escaped his throat.  “Just that my life is over,” he replied vaguely, earning another confused look from his large friend.

“You could elaborate, you know.  I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems?”

 _Bless his heart for always trying to find the bright side of things_.  “Well, this time it is.  McGonagall has decreed I am to be punished for the rest of the year, and it’s all that stupid mullet’s fault.”  His jaw clenched tightly at the thought of the other, eyes narrowing as he glared into empty space.

Hunk dusted off his hands onto an actual rag, pulling up his own chair to sit on before responding.  “What did you do to Keith now,” he asked, voice wary.  He sounded like a mother exhausted over her child’s shenanigans, slightly vexed but not at all surprised.

Lance scoffed, swinging his glare over to meet the other’s brown eyes.  “Who said I started it,” he huffed, hurt by his friend’s lack of faith in him.

Hunk wasn’t taking Lance’s crap, rolling his eyes at the obvious evidence stacked up against him.  “Probably because you always start it?  Honestly, Lance, if it weren’t for you constantly messing with him, I’m sure Keith would have backed off entirely by now.  He’s not as bad as you paint him out to be.  Clearly, since he’s Head Boy and stuff.”

“He’s a Slytherin,” Lance cried, avoiding the topic of his inability to let his obsession drop.  It wasn’t _exactly_ an obsession, but he did admit that the idea of watching Keith squirm gave him untold satisfaction.  Almost a little _too much_ satisfaction, but he pushed that thought aside.

“Lance,” Hunk scolded, crossing arms over his chest.  “It’s not right to judge someone based solely on their house.  Not all Slytherins are horrible people, just like not all Gryffindors are model citizens.”  He gave a pointed look, one Lance chose blatantly to ignore.  “Besides, I’ve seen Keith outside of confrontations with you, I know he’s a good person.  Just like I know you’re a secret softy when you want to be.  You should give him a chance.”

Lance grumbled.  “Yeah, well, now I’m kind of forced to.  And I’m not happy about it, not in the least.”

Hunk’s angry demeanor softened entirely, replaced once more with his curious sort of expression.  “Do you want to talk about it,” he asked gently, offering a warm smile as reassurance.

He did, but he was also still miffed that Hunk accused him of being the culprit to always instigate things.  It was mostly the truth, but Keith also sometimes retaliated against him even though he hadn’t done anything to warrant it. 

Like the time Keith tripped him going down the stairs, and he had to spend the next few days in the infirmary.  Luckily, it didn’t affect his Quidditch practices, or he would have done more than changing the jerk’s hair purple for two weeks.  It was actually kind of cute, so he regretted it instantly, but he still didn’t know what possessed Keith to act violently.  Ever since then, their fights became more and more physical.

Pursing his lips, Lance acquiesced.  “We got into another fight, and now we have to take every class together permanently, and I have to live in his stupid Head dorm with him, which is kind of Pidge’s fault that there’s an extra room there, to begin with.  I can’t believe McGonagall actually thinks this will be beneficial, we’re bound to murder each other while we sleep.”

“Actually, you can’t.  The rooms are password locked for privacy reasons, and you get to set the password yourself.  So, unless you make it something easy to crack, Keith can’t get inside without your permission.”

Lance gave him an incredulous look.  “How do you know that and I don’t?”

Shrugging, Hunk leaned back in his chair.  “Simple, I asked.  Giving a boy and a girl free reign of a private area sounded an awful lot like a huge mess waiting to happen, so I asked Professor Avis, and she gave me the low down.  They also tend to choose students who wouldn’t do anything scandalous like that, which is why people like Keith and Pidge are the Head Boy and Girl.”

Lance nodded like it made sense.  It didn’t, people usually acted differently behind closed doors than how they did publicly, but he wasn’t about to burst Hunk’s innocent little bubble.  Instead, he cleared his throat and smiled.  “Well, I guess that’s a slight relief, though that still leaves me stuck with him around fifteen hours of the day.  Even behind separate doors, I’ll still know he’s close by.  There had to have been a smarter idea than this shit show.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Hunk admitted, looking a little reluctant to say the words aloud.  Before Lance could argue, he pushed forward.  “I mean, spending time together will prove you’re both more alike than you want to admit.  You even chose the same career path, and you guys have a lot of the same ambitions.  You’re both wicked smart, stubborn as hell, kind when you think no one is looking, and really great guys.  I think you’d probably be good friends if you could get over your silly disagreement.”

Crossing arms over his chest, Lance glowered.  “Don’t lump me into the same category as that jackass.  We’re nothing alike.”

Hunk sighed but didn’t argue further.  Standing from his chair, he returned to his pile of dough.  “I’m making some bread for later.  You’re welcome to stay and watch, though I think you owe it to your housemates to see them one last time.  I know avoidance is normally your thing, but you’ll regret it later if you don’t at least say goodbye properly.  Dinner will be in like ten minutes, so you won’t be waiting long, regardless.”

Lance nodded, rising from his own chair stiffly.  Hunk was probably right, as usual.  He would still see some of them whenever they had classes together, but if their schedules reflected Keith’s, it would be down to twice a week.  He’d spent six years with them, they deserved more than that.

Running a hand through his hair, he gave a tight smile.  “Guess I’ll get going, then.  I’ll see you, I hope.  I’m not really sure what the new specifics will be, other than we’re forcibly attached at the hip.”

“Keith likes to pick up food from the kitchens quite often, so I’m sure you’ll catch me here if that’s the case.”  Hunk smiled warmly, giving Lance a soft wave.  “See you around, buddy.  Try to stay out of trouble.”

Lance didn’t feel the need to respond, closing the wooden door with a soft click.

* * *

 

The Great Hall was loud, drowning out his self-deprecating thoughts as his friends and housemates talked animatedly beside him.  They had, of course, heard of his little scuffle in the greenhouses that afternoon, but none of them had said anything further than the usual slight quip about being bested by a lowly Slytherin. 

He’d brushed the comments aside with a laugh at the time, though the later into the meal it became, the guiltier he felt.  Pushing the last bits of food around the plate, he sighed softly, not really expecting anyone to notice his glum mood.

Marcus nudged him a little too forcefully with his shoulder, drawing his gaze up into curious brown eyes.  “What’s up, Lance?  McGonagall give you another month of weekend detentions or something?”

“I wish,” he muttered under his breath, before smiling sadly at his friend.  The chubby face blinked slowly in mild concern, so he decided to rip the band-aid off and be done with it.  “I…” he took a deep breath.  “I’m not going to be living in the dorm any longer,” he admitted softly, deciding to get the worst part out first.  Not the worst for him, of course, but the worst concerning his friends.

Marcus stared bug-eyed in response, but Jared was the one to speak up from the other side of him.  “Wait, what?  Did I just hear you say what I think you did, mate?  McGonagall kicked you _out_?”

“Not exactly,” Lance mumbled, turning to face the dark-skinned boy instead.  His black eyes looked stuck halfway between anger and sadness, with just a dash of hopeful curiosity.  “I… have to live in the Head dorm from now on, so I can learn to get along with the mullet and play nice.  It’s that, or expulsion, though I’m not sure which is actually worse.”

“Expulsion,” Jared nodded.

“No way, I’d choose that over… over…  Him!”  Marcus looked like he was ready to have one of Jared’s asthma attacks, pale face a blotchy mess of bright red, breath coming out in wheezing gasps.

“Hey, it’ll be okay, guys,” Lance soothed, hooking an arm around the both of them, pulling them gently into his personal space.  “I mean, we’re still in the same school, right?”

Jared nodded.  “That’s true, but will you be allowed to take meals with us?”

Lance grimaced.  “I’m not sure.  She said we can’t leave without one another, so I think that means I go where he goes, and vice versa.  I know you guys wouldn’t want him here.”

Jared shrugged like it didn’t really bother him, but Marcus’ face turned even redder.  “This is bullshit,” he finally seethed, shoulders slumping as he rubbed gentle circles into his temples like the idea alone gave him a headache.

“Tell me about it,” Lance muttered, feeling just as annoyed as Marcus seemed to look.

“You’re still our Captain, though, right?  We’ll still get to hang out for practices,” Jared asked, looking sadly hopeful.

Lance ruffled his two teammate/friend’s heads simultaneously.  “Of course.  No matter what.  I will bound and gag the mullet to drag him with me to the pitch if that’s what it takes.  They can’t ask me to give up everything, that wouldn’t be fair to only punish me.”

“It still doesn’t sound very fair,” Marcus pouted before a slow smile crept onto his face.  “But we’ll make do.”

Jared nodded his agreement.

“Thanks, guys,” Lance said, feeling a slight bit better.  “You are the best.”

“We try,” they chorused, grins identical as they bumped into Lance’s shoulders playfully.

In the end, it helped the heaviness to lift from Lance’s shoulders just a little bit more.

* * *

 

He paced outside the entrance to the Head dorm, muttering curses under his breath.  Keith hadn’t been in the Great Hall during dinner time, not that he really cared much, but that also meant he hadn’t found a chance to ask the idiot what the password was to enter the damned place; and so, he found himself stuck outside, glaring at the door like it might budge under his stare.  So far, it hadn’t.

Curfew was drawing ever closer, and he’d made it a point to keep away until the last dying breaths of his freedom were pulsing adrenaline through his veins, warning him of the repercussions should be he tardy.  If he had to go down without a fight, he’d at least push things out as long as humanly possible.

That decision also left him in this utterly ridiculous predicament, arms crossed over his chest, wondering if he should give in and knock to gain entrance, or if he should remain stubborn until the idiot grew so worried he came looking.  The satisfaction of seeing the boy look frightened kept winning out, so he pushed the time even further, mentally counting down the seconds one by one by one.

Even as panic began to claw its arms through his stomach, he refused to budge.  It was all Keith’s fault for not disclosing the information, after all.  He only had himself to blame for not being a little more aware of what was about to happen.  If Lance was caught, Keith was entirely to blame.

The thought crossed his mind that maybe Keith was also being stubborn about it all, which only made his resolve strengthen as he burned fire into his glares, imagining the door disintegrating beneath his toxic stare.

_Stupid mullet, this is all his stupid fault, to begin with.  Doesn’t he care we might get expelled if he doesn’t try to cooperate?  Stupid, obnoxious, idiot; with his stupid silky looking hair and pretty eyes.  What a fucking jerk._

“What are you doing,” a voice asked somewhere to his left, making him jump slightly, heart hammering in his ears.  He’d expected to find a professor watching him warily; instead, he found the object of his heated thoughts looking at him like he’d grown a second, less attractive head.

Lance felt all the anger and stress bubble to the point of bursting.  “What does it look like, mullet?  I’m stuck out here because someone neglected to inform me how to get inside.  It’s like you hoped I’d get us in trouble for not being in there before curfew.”

Keith rolled violet-indigo eyes in response, crossing arms over his chest and cocking a hip.  “Except you forgot the small detail that I’d also be outside after curfew, which means even if you were in there, we would have been in trouble had I not been with you.  I’m not irresponsible, anyhow, I was doing my Head Boy duties.  Not all of us get the free time to laze about and torment others.”

Lance scoffed, not wanting to admit he didn’t know Keith was outside the room this whole time.  “I wasn’t doing anything of the sort, and I was here before you, anyhow, so clearly I’m more responsible.  I needed to say goodbye to people before this fucked up situation prevented me from seeing them again.  Your life isn't the one being uprooted here, mine is.”

Keith snorted at that.  “Yeah, because it isn’t a giant pain in my ass to deal with you constantly.  I swear. McClain, if you get me kicked out of here because you can’t control your three-year-old's temper, I’m going to kill you.”

“Me,” Lance shrieked incredulously, not caring who heard his elevated voice levels.  “I was here!  Waiting!  You were the later one.  You are the one more likely to get us kicked out, and then I’ll be kicking your ass until you’re a permanent patient at St Mungo’s, indefinitely.  Now open the fucking door already.”

“Mandragora,” Keith muttered, then stomped inside once the lock made an audible click. 

Lance followed begrudgingly, slamming the door behind him and eyeing his new living courters clinically.  It was different from what he expected, though he wasn’t really expecting much.  The walls were mostly bare and painted a plain white, a few bookcases stuffed with dusty looking works lining side by side the area to his immediate right. 

There was a beat-up looking loveseat straight in front of him, two identical chairs flanking either side to close off a small sitting area in a U shape, with a glass coffee table in the very center.  Behind all of that was a kitchenette with cupboards and a mini fridge, a stove, a sink, a little dishwasher, and a breakfast bar with two stools closing the area off from the rest of the quarters.  To the left of the kitchen was a round table with two chairs, a bowl of fruit sitting comically atop.

There were no windows to speak of, just a door near the bookcases that looked like it led to a shared bathroom of some sort, and a little bench seat at the farthest end of the room, stuck oddly in the middle of two sets of short staircases leading up to what he assumed were the actual rooms.  In all, it looked like an apartment; definitively a splash more modern than the rest of the castle, probably newer.

If it wasn’t such an annoyance to be forced there, he might comment aloud on how interesting it all seemed.

“That one is yours,” Keith mumbled, pointing to the room on the left.  “We share a bathroom, which is annoying, but I guess you already shared one in your dorm, so we’ll make do.  Only one shower, but I usually take mine at night anyhow, so if you prefer that as well, I guess we can make up some sort of schedule so as not to interfere with the other.  We have to get up early tomorrow to get our new schedule, so expect me at your door early if you aren’t out here before six o clock sharp.”

Lance frowned, watching Keith shuffle off to his room on the right.  “What about the passwords, how do I make one for my room?”

Stopping short of slamming his door in Lance’s face, Keith turned around with a frown.  “There’s a chart inside, you follow it and it’ll activate.  They’re wandless magic, of course, and best to be done nonverbally, or it negates the point.  I do hope you know how to do something like that.”

“Of course I do,” Lance seethed, already wanting to strangle the other as he smirked at his own, not so funny slight.  Not even five minutes in, and he was contemplating murder.  This was going to be a pain in more places than one.

Keith smirked again, opening his door slowly.  “Have a good night, McClain.  I meant what I said about waking your ass up if you aren’t out here promptly.  I don’t take kindly to tardiness, and you don’t want to test my patience.”  Before Lance could reply with something snarky, the door clicked softly behind him.

Releasing a long breath of air through his clenched teeth, he stomped up his own staircase and threw open the unlocked door, enjoying the echo it made as it slammed hard against the wall.  The lights came on automatically, illuminating a space much like you’d find inside of a regular dorm, only more the size to fit a single occupant.

There was a desk to his right complete with a little chair, a four-poster with blue hangings on his left, and Ravenclaw emblems hanging on the stark white walls.  He had a half full bookcase with various reference novels to aid in his studies toward the end of the long room, a dresser and closet to keep his clothes in, and a little night table with a bedside lamp.  All the furniture appeared to be made from the exact same deep mahogany wood.

At the foot of the bed sat his trunk, and he tapped it with his wand, unlocking the thing before gently opening the lid.  It was clear the room was supposed to be meant for Pidge, not him; and while Ravenclaw was better than being stuck with Slytherin paraphernalia, he missed his Gryffindor colors and the soothing vibe he felt whenever he stepped inside his old dorm after a long day, much like this one had been.

This place screamed that he didn’t belong, but that didn’t stop him from making the most out of it.  Perhaps he could speak with the Headmistress in the morning to have the elves come and change everything back to a more familiar setting, but until then, he had his favorite crocheted blanket his Gran had given him, in all of its Gryffindor colored glory.

Just the scent alone made emotions burn hot and suffocating inside of his chest, but he pushed all of that away, pulling out his night clothes to prepare himself for bed.  It was early, nine o clock at most, but that didn’t stop exhaustion from working its way through his muscles, nor did it stop his eyes from feeling like someone attached five-kilogram weights to each lash, pulling them down precariously low.

There was nothing like a good night’s sleep; morning light would shine a better attitude on everything exponentially. 

Just before he crawled into bed, he set the password to protect his room from intrusion, deciding on the word ‘Kappa,’ as the water dwelling creature that strangled those who entered its territory really felt like the most fitting protector to keep the intruder he really wanted to strangle from entering.  Too bad he couldn’t have an actual Kappa to sick on Keith, then he’d be short one aggravating problem.

Falling against the soft mattress, he clicked out the bedside lamp, leaving the hangings open for once since there wasn’t a window to let in light, nor roommates around to disturb his privacy.  Even as the room grew unnaturally quiet, the dark a little too black compared to what he was used to, he still found himself succumbing to the pull of soft sheets and the waves of tiredness that washed over him.

Tucking his blanket under his chin, he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can already tell this thing is going to be even longer than I previously thought.  
> Oh well, I got this chapter out pretty fast!  
> That probably won't be a normal thing, I do have like 6 other fics I currently also update.  
> Well, for now.
> 
> Hope Lance's wasn't too slow.  
> I need to gradually get into this, so it'll be a little boring at times.  
> Next up is Keith!  
> Wanna take a guess if Lance is going to wake up on his own? :3
> 
> Comments make me work faster!  
> Clearly, I got so excited from the already great feedback, I turned around and wrote (just shy of) 4800 more words!  
> <3<3<3<3


	3. The punishment begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance attempt to adjust to their situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, sorry for that month long wait!

Keith awoke to the gentle brightening of the dark room.  Eyes cracked open sleepily, mind still working through the fog lingering in the deeper recesses of his brain.  There was something important he was supposed to be doing, but for the life of him, he wasn’t sure what.  Taking a quick peek at the clock on his table, he frowned heavily at the early hour.

 _Why the hell did my alarm go off at five thirty in the freaking mor-… Ah, fuck._ Pulling himself upright, he rubbed the last bits of sleep from his face. 

Keith was not a morning person.  Not that he was particularly a night person, he just hated being awoken at any time.  The first few hours right out of bed were usually him grumbling unhappily at anything and everything, chugging massive amounts of coffee to make himself feel even the tiniest bit normal, and refusing to speak until the caffeine took full effect.

Which is why he normally found himself up around seven AM. 

His earliest class thankfully didn’t start until just after ten, and it was potions, which meant that he didn’t really need to converse much.  Most days he wasn’t scheduled to do anything until the afternoon, and he’d opted out of extra classes so he could narrow his focus on the five main N.E.W.T.s he’d need to become an Auror. 

Now Lance had gone and screwed the whole thing up, and he’d kill the idiot if his perfectly planned out schedule turned into a clusterfuck of aggravating discord and pounding headaches.  The hints of one was already beginning to work its way into the place behind his eyelids, which spoke volumes of how the school year was going to end up.

Heaving a sigh, he rolled out of bed, stripping out of his night clothes and pulling on his uniform begrudgingly.  Sleep still clung hard to his limbs, making his movements sluggish and sloppy, his reaction time slow.  Coffee was definitely something he needed, and fast.

The Great Hall wouldn’t be open for early riser breakfast for another half hour, so he decided to make his own French pressed version of liquid motivation by himself.  It tasted better than whatever it was the elves brewed up, but he preferred not having to do any of the work, especially not while grumpy and half-asleep.

As the water came to a boil, he poured a bowl of cereal, leaning back against the counter and eating it almost mechanically as his mind spaced out, eyes staring unblinkingly at a spot on the wall.  The obnoxious whistle of the kettle pulled his attention back to the stove, clicking off the burner and moving the source of sound away from the heat.

With coffee in hand, he felt himself slowly begin to ease into the early morning flow.

Another glance at the clock said it was almost time to check on Lance, and while he was sure the other was quiet when he _chose_ to be, the room beside his own was far too quiet for their annoying situation.  Surely he would hear some manner of protest at this point if the idiot was awake already.

A smile curled his lips, setting down the empty mug on the countertop and pulling out his wand.  Slinking up to the door, he pressed his ear against the cool wood, listening intently for any signs of life.  Just as expected, the only audible thing was a slight snoring sound, falling into an isochronal rhythm that indicated sleep.

Casting an amplification spell on the door, he took a few steps back, raising his wand in preparation of an attack.  “ _Bombarda parum_ ,” he breathed, watching as the door shook violently under the weight of the miniature explosion.

Luckily for him, the school had reinforced the walls and doors with strong unbreakable charms, and quite possibly a few impervious, though noises still managed to make it across when loud enough.  The resulting rumbling wave of sound vibrated up the wood, rattling the thing in a chorus of cries similar to that of several fireworks exploding.

Stuffing his wand back into his pocket, he leaned against the banister, a smug look crossing over his face.  After a flurry of sporadic thuds and an unmistakable string of curse words shot off from the other side, the door flew open to reveal a very disheveled, very grumpy looking Gryffindor.

“What the fuck, Mullet, are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?”

Keith snorted at the other’s unkempt appearance, from the way his hair stuck up in silly little pieces here and there, to the way his night clothes were crumpled and looked a little too small for his tall and lanky frame.  He ignored the sliver of tan flesh poking out around the hemline of the burgundy and gold trousers, crossing arms over his chest loosely and cocking a hip.

“I warned you about not being up at six o clock sharp.  It’s six-oh-five, so I was even a little lax, here.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed menacingly, a low growl vibrating in his throat.  “A simple knock would have sufficed.  I’m a light sleeper, you could whisper and it’d wake me.”

Keith grinned beside himself.  “Maybe next time you’ll listen when I warn you of something.  Now get ready, I want to head out in the next half hour or so.”  Turning to leave, he caught the haughty huff the other sent his way.

“Half an hour is not enough time to get ready in,” Lance grumbled, his tone taking on a childlike and pouty quality to it.

Keith had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes, walking away with purposefully languid steps.  “It’s plenty of time, for those of us who aren’t a drama queen.”  Sparing a glance over his shoulder, he cocked a brow.  “And really, what could you possibly do to make yourself look presentable?  It’s not like we have all week to wait.”

Lance gasped dramatically, hands flying to his pockets in search of his wand.  When it wasn’t to be found, he stamped his foot down with a loud thwack.  “Watch your mouth, Mullet, or I’ll hex it off your face.”

“Threatening the Head Boy again, McClain?  Do you ever learn, or are you simply hoping to get in even more trouble?”

That snapped his mouth closed, brow furrowing hard as he glared daggers in Keith’s direction.  Blue eyes dropped down to the floor for a moment, face rippling with emotions before he raked a hand through his hair roughly, letting a defeated sigh fall from his lips.  “What about food, then?  Are we going to eat first, or do I have to be hangry while we sit with the Headmistress?  I’m not the best when I’m starved.”

Keith shrugged.  “The Great Hall barely even opened, anyway, but there are cereal and milk in the kitchen, and bowls are in the cupboard.  If you dress quickly, I won’t deny you time to hurry up and eat.”

“And what about coffee,” Lance muttered, lower lip pouting out slightly.  He avoided eye contact, cheeks turning a satisfying shade of crimson as he struggled internally with being civil.

With his own defeated sigh, Keith decided to compromise a little.  After all, they could get more coffee afterward.  “There’s about a cup left in the press.  If you want it, it’s yours.”  Turning on his heels, he sauntered back up to the privacy of his room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Sharing a common space was definitely going to be tricky, but at least the two wouldn’t need to share a bedroom.  The availability of a private area was well preferred, and probably the safest idea, all things considered.  Who knows what Lance would do to him in the middle of the night, with no one around to hear him scream.  A chill ran down his spine and he shuddered.

The sound of clinking echoed its way up from the kitchen, and he assumed Lance was probably an eat first, get dressed second kind of person.  That was surprising, considering the fact that anyone who entered the Great Hall had to be dressed in their full school uniform, at the very least, or else be turned away.

Some students did find ways around that, like the time his old dorm mate Rufus Jenkins was caught with a stash of muggle junk food in his trunk.  He’d blamed it on his inability to get around without some source of food product, but Slughorn didn’t buy it, seeing as how it was just a bunch of crisps and biscuits.

Knowing Lance, he was probably much the same in terms of breaking the rules.  Even though he managed to appear like a model student on the outside, there were plenty of situations Keith found other students in that were untraceable in terms of who had pranked them.

Little indications always made him believe it was probably Lance’s gang, or else some other student in Gryffindor house, as they were usually the least often house to find themselves at the mercy of a childish prank.

Their own disagreements might not be much of a secret to anyone who knew the two of them, but some strange inkling he had told him that Lance was just as much of a prankster as a few other Gryffindor students had been in the past.  He had this certain mischievous glint in his eyes far too often to be as innocent as he always claimed to be.

The sound of the shower turning on pulled him from his thoughts, eyes slipping over to stare hard at the area he knew lay just beyond the thin wall.  The bathroom was of course connected to his own room, which meant little things like the water running through pipes or voices spoken above a whisper were bound to end up disrupting him from time to time.

The thought that Lance was probably taking off his clothes just beyond that little area ran across his mind, and he pushed it away violently, shooting off the bed with fire burning his cheeks.  Lance was not the person to think about naked, even if he was kind of moderately attractive.  That didn’t make him any less of an asshole, and completely undeserving of such wanton thoughts.

Running a quick hand through his hair, he cast an Imperturbable charm over the wall, effectively drowning out any and all sounds.  It helped moderately, though he’d need to remove it eventually, or not even a quick knock at the door would be heard through it.  It could spell trouble if he wasn’t careful about when to use it, or for how long.

Sighing, perhaps for the fifteenth time that morning, which was a record in and of itself; he gathered up his belongings into his school bag, casting an undetectable extension charm over the thing so he could fit every last one of his books inside.

Being overprepared was better than being underprepared, especially when he wasn’t positive what this new schedule might entail.  Some seventh-year classes began as early as eight in the morning, which left very little time to rush back and collect extra belongings after their meeting with McGonagall.

Something told him being tardy to any one of their classes wasn’t going to be an option, not even on that day.

Checking the clock, he was pleased to find it exactly one half hour later than when he’d last seen the other.  If Lance wasn’t ready now, it was his own fault.

Removing the imperturbable charm with a quick flick of his wand, he frowned hard at the sudden rush of horrible noise that gratingly assaulted his ears.  It was akin to a cat being forcibly drowned, and that probably wasn’t far from reality.

Throwing open the door, he flew down the steps and banged on the bathroom until the racket ceased.  “Are you seriously not done with your shower yet?  It’s already time to get going, Lance.”

“What was that?  I can’t hear you over the sound of my not giving a fuck,” Lance’s words echoed back, slightly distorted by the ricochet off of tile and the falling spray of water.

Clenching his jaw tight, Keith took a deep and calming breath in through his nose.  “I don’t want to be late because you can’t keep your showers under ten minutes, McClain.  Whatever you’re doing in there can wait until tonight, when our asses aren’t on the line for expulsion.”

“Yeah, that’s a negative there, Mullet.  Besides, is McGonagall even awake at this ungodly hour?  No civilized human awakens before seven AM, not if they can help it.”

Keith was reluctant to agree, though he knew from prefect duties, as well as Head Boy ones, that the Headmistress was up promptly at five each and every morning, without fail.  “Yes, as a matter of fact, she is.  And I’d rather not find out our first class is going to be at eight this morning, and then get marked down because you don’t understand self-control.  Now get a move on.”

“Make me,” Lance sang insufferably, before resuming his equally obnoxious wailing noises at the top of his lungs.  The words were far too screechy to make out properly, but the tune sounded like something a fourteen-year-old girl would listen to, not a seventeen-year-old Quidditch Captain.

The lid of his left eye actually twitched in irritation as he pulled his wand from his pocket, magically unlocking the bathroom door and slipping his wand arm in carefully.  Aiming at what he assumed was the faucet, if the sound of Lance’s horrible voice was any indication of its placement, he muttered a quick spell, slipping back out and replacing the lock.

The shriek that erupted from the other’s throat was satisfaction enough, a wicked smile slowly spreading like wildfire across his face.  The sound of the curtain being ripped open rang around the tiled room, followed shortly by the sound of angry swearing before the door was thrown open with a bang.

Lance stood, bubbles still clinging to places on his broad naked chest, an entirely too small towel wrapped hastily around his waist, wand clutched in his right hand.  Anger flashed across his blue eyes, turning them a dark shade of cobalt.  “Aguamenti,” he snarled, pointing the thing directly in Keith’s face as a stream of cold water sprayed out from the tip of the wand.

The door slammed shut a second later, leaving a thoroughly surprised and utterly soaked Keith standing there, blinking away his shock.  Perhaps it was a little mean to change the temperature to zero degrees Celsius, and in hindsight, probably not the most mature way to get someone to cooperate.

Running a hand down his drippy face, he cast a quick drying spell over his person, wishing there was something to remove images from one’s brain as well.

* * *

 

McGonagall’s office was eerily quiet, the Headmistress reading over the three scrolls of parchment critically with a pursed set of lips.  From time to time her eyebrows rose upward on her forehead, or else dropped low over her green eyes, obscuring them slightly; but she didn’t make a single peep, no matter how much her expression changed.

When they had first entered, she’d gone over the limits and restrictions she expected them to uphold, mainly a reiteration of the previous afternoon’s spiel, with the added annoyance of a distance limit set firmly into place.

Neither boy was to be more than a few meters apart anytime they left their dorm, save for whenever they were inside the Great Hall, which meant that their meals could be a reprieve, but everything else was forced cooperation and a horrible encroachment on their sense of personal space.

They had agreed to the terms, of course, with very little wiggle room to refute the insane conditions.  After all, it was either that or immediate expulsion for refusal to attempt a truce.  Keith could tell by the way Lance’s eyes grew almost black that he was just as furious about everything, but unlike Keith, he took it with a false smile plastered obnoxiously to his face.

After that, McGonagall pulled out various scrolls and letters from their teachers, deciding for herself whether or not the professor agreed upon schedule was fit for approval.  And so, they waited for the gavel to drop, for their fates to become permanently sealed.

Lance grew restless in the seat beside him, the occasional yawn falling from his lips.  Keith was far too nervous to move very much, no matter how sore his bottom was becoming in the uncomfortable chair; but Lance appeared ready to sink to the floor and take a nap.  How he could be so at ease when their lives were about to be turned upside down was completely baffling, even if it was simply just an act.

After a few more unusual facial movements, the Headmistress gave a curt nod, rolling the papers back up and handing one of them over to Keith.  “Well, I can’t say it’ll be exactly what the two of you want, but after reviewing your original schedules, I am pleased to say that it will neither interfere with either of your extra activities nor vary much from the norm.  There you go, gentlemen, and I expect great things from the both of you.”

Lance peered over his arm at the new timetable, warm breath caressing the skin of Keith’s right hand with each shallow exhale.  Ignoring the distraction, he too looked over everything with a critical eye.  Half the classes were the same as before, and none of them seemed to extend too long into the night, nor start too early in the day.  All in all, it was a pretty good setup.

Giving his own nod, he offered a tight-lipped smile.  “Well, I’ll have to switch my Head Boy duties up a little bit, but I’ll assure nothing is neglected.  Thank you, Professor, for making this transition as smooth as possible.”

Pulling the skin of his lip between his teeth, Lance frowned at the still unrolled parchment.  “Wednesday nights were our Quidditch practice nights,” he mumbled quietly, looking torn between blind outrage and maintaining his temper.  Clenching his jaw hard, blue eyes flicked up to the older woman.  “Why does Keith get to keep his perfect schedule, but I have to sacrifice mine?”

McGonagall quirked a brow at him, face a mask of indifference.  “Because, Mr. McClain, Head Boy duties are for the good of all the school.  And while Quidditch is a very important school activity, it is not more important than that.  Now, I have spoken with both Professors Longbottom and Slughorn, as well as Madame Hooch, and all agree that Thursday night practices for Gryffindor will suffice given the circumstances.  Is that all?”

Lance slumped lower in his seat, brow furrowing once more.  “Yes, ma’am,” he sighed before his head snapped up and his face took on a shy, sheepish kind of expression.  “Oh, well.  There is one thing, but it’s more personal than anything.”

The Headmistress eyed him warily but nodded.  “Very well, then.  What is it?”

Clearing his throat, he shifted in his chair, sparing a glance at Keith before flicking his gaze back to the professor.  “It’s just.  I had a little trouble… adjusting to the new living situation.  And I think… well, I know, that I would feel better if I had Gryffindor colors in my room.  I would hate for the undue stress this is causing me to affect my school work.”  He offered a weak smile, playing the victim card wonderfully.

Keith had to stop himself from snorting outright, knowing the little weasel was just using his manipulative abilities to further get his way.  Not that it was an absurd request, just that it was annoying that no one but him ever seemed to see through the act.  To most, Lance could do no wrong.

McGonagall seemed to mull it over, though Keith could tell from the imperceptible little quirk in her lips that she saw things much the same way he did.  At least one other person knew the power of Lance’s stupid puppy eyes and was thankfully immune to it. 

Leaning forward in her seat, she hummed low in her throat.  “I suppose that is alright.  I will inform the elves to have it switched by night’s end.  Now, if that is all, you are free to leave.”

Lance all but leaped from the chair, a broad grin spreading happily over his stupidly handsome face.  “Thank you, Professor,” he crooned, gathering up his school bag and pulling it over his head.

Keith sighed quietly, following suit.  “Yes, thank you, Professor.  We’ll be getting off to breakfast now.”

Both turned to leave, stopping short of the door as McGonagall cleared her throat.  “I hope the two of you will take this punishment very seriously.  As I’ve said, I expect nothing but the best from two of my brightest students.”

“Yes ma’am,” they chorused, sharing an awkwardly worried look before the two of them hurriedly escaped the room.

When they were finally out of earshot, some ways down the hall, Lance crossed arms over his chest and growled.  “This is utter bullshit,” he seethed, sparing a sidelong glance that looked a little more like a glare than anything else.  “Why do I have to follow you around like a dog of some sort, but you pretty much get to waltz around unaffected?”

Keith almost choked on his own saliva, stopping dead in his tracks to stare incredulously at the other.  “Do you think I like this or something?  That I want to listen to you complain all of the time, without any kind of escape?  Be grateful she didn’t kick us out, Merlin knows we deserve it after all the shit we’ve put her through.”

Lance laughed humorlessly, features becoming haughty as he squared his shoulders and placed hands on his hips.  “Yeah, well, if you weren’t such a little tattletale, a lot of those would have gone unknown.  You’re just as much to blame here as I am, or did you forget that you were the one to start throwing punches first?  Just because I can finish the fight, doesn’t mean I started it.”

Rolling his eye, he let out another snort.  “Do you even listen when anyone else talks, or are you just so full of yourself that your ears only pick up the sound of your own voice?  I said we, you insufferable twat, which means I acknowledge my own part in everything.  You could at least attempt to take some blame, here.”

“That’s exactly what I just did, Mullet, but you’re too high up on your horse thinking you’re better than everyone to understand what admittance of guilt looks like.”  Folding arms back over his chest, he sneered.  “I’m not going to let you drag me down anymore, though.  If you want to get kicked out, go run back and do it, already.  Save me the headache of looking at you.”

Cocking a brow, Keith mirrored Lance’s closed off stance.  “Since when did I say that I’m better than everyone?”

“You sure as hell think you’re better than me,” Lance huffed.

“That’s because I am.”  The look of utter outrage on Lance’s face was enough to make Keith smile wickedly.

Closing the distance fast, Lance poked a finger hard into the other’s chest.  “Listen here, dickwad, and I will make things perfectly clear to you.  You are not, and you will never be, better than I am.  You’re a fucking Slytherin, for crying out loud.  You practically ooze evil intent.  Just because you fooled everyone else, doesn’t mean you fool me.  The second you slip up, you better believe I’m coming down on you hard and fast.”

Pushing the offending finger away, Keith laughed bitterly.  “Oh, and I suppose you think that just because you’re in perfect little Gryffindor that you can do no wrong?  You’re not Harry fucking Potter, Lance.  You’re not really anyone, are you?  You’re just… no one special.”  Turning on his heels, he began to saunter away.

The only indication that Lance followed was the snarl of rage he heard somewhere behind him, and the black cloud of anger that stalked him the remainder of the way down to breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sincerest apologies for such a long wait!  
> A lot of things happened, including a move and writer's block and just... chaos?  
> I will attempt not to make the next wait be so utterly long!
> 
> Hope it was well liked, but comments are the best way to show a little appreciation, or even just whip my butt into shape. ^^  
> <3 <3 <3


	4. Sticky situations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance can't seem to keep his emotions in check.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to enjoy writing one chapter, then the very next one ASAP.  
> Hopefully that doesn't mean the next wait will be another month. ^^

Lance was furious, and the worst part about it was he couldn’t even do anything to rectify it, not without serious consequence.  It’s like Keith knew exactly how to get underneath his skin, all the best ways to drive him mad, and took full advantage of that knowledge now that they were forced to play nice or risk expulsion. 

It wasn’t fair, but he’d be damned if he’d allow the jerk to bring him down because of it.

A sigh escaped his lips, body sagging down into his seat.   Nothing would make this day better.  Not even the small reprieve he got by sitting alone at the Gryffindor table, slowly nursing his fourth cup of piping hot, though undeniably weaker than Mullet’s French pressed version, black coffee.

Cream and sugar were nice, but something about taking it black really brought out the hatred in his soul, especially when the jerk refused to sit where Lance could feel marginally satisfied by glaring daggers at his dumb face.  Doing it at the back of someone’s unsuspecting head just wasn’t the same thing, and it made him feel like a tool.

Not that he thought Keith was all that unsuspecting.  For all he knew, the loser was purposefully trying to push each and every last one of his buttons with as little energy as humanly possible.  The thought only made him angrier, which really wasn’t a good thing, so he switched gears and changed his focus elsewhere.

Glancing at the clock hanging up on the wall, his bottom lip turned outward in a childish pout.  Somehow, even the clock hands seemed to be taunting him from their place behind the thin sheet of glass, sitting there stubbornly and refusing to budge.

It was just shy of nine AM, and already that morning he’d been woken up at the ass crack of dawn in the rudest way possible; was made to cut his entire wake up routine by a full two-thirds of what it usually was; and somehow, it was only fifteen minutes later than when he’d plopped his behind onto the bench to wait out the rest of the shittiest start to the shittiest day of his Hogwarts life.

Three hours in, and he couldn’t wait for it to be done with.  Their first shared class of the day didn’t start for another hour or so, and their last class wouldn’t end until a little while before dinner.  All he had to show for his efforts thus far was an ever-increasing headache and a growing sense of dread.  To top it all off, he was beginning to feel lonely.

_Just fucking brilliant._

The table was still empty of most Gryffindor students, aside from a few first years scattered around here and there, and one weird third-year boy that tried and failed to join the Quidditch team during last week’s tryouts.  No one worth talking to, which meant he’d be spending his morning utterly alone.

His old dorm mates wouldn’t be coming down to breakfast before nine thirty.  No one in their right mind ever got up before eight after their third year, which was just one of the many perks finally being in Seventh year was supposed to bring him.  No classes before eleven, all the time in the world to obtain hours upon hours of undisturbed beauty sleep.

Now all of his dreams were ash.

Raking a hand down his face, he grumbled once more.  Part of him wanted to leave and go back to sulk inside his shitty new room, but that also entailed speaking with Mullet prematurely, which was at the bottom of a long list of things he’d enjoy doing right that moment.  Sitting the furthest they were ever going to be allowed for the rest of the year was like a miniature vacation, so he might as well make the most of it.

Swinging his gaze back over to the aforementioned walking headache, he sneered once more at that stupid unruly mop of thick black hair, wondering how someone could ever look at themselves in the mirror and think a mullet was an appropriate hairstyle choice.

In truth, the pieces of wispy black locks were really just an overgrown shaggy mess that said ‘I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks of me,’ but with so very little to nitpick and tease the other over, he went for the only thing he genuinely disliked about Keith’s appearance.  Even then, it was mostly just a habit to address the guy by that nickname anymore.

He’d never be caught dead admitting it, but Keith was actually pretty good looking.  For a dude.  And a douchebag.

Another familiar, equally unruly mop of chestnut hair peeked its way around the other side of Keith, big brown eyes looking at him pityingly from behind comically large glasses.  A wave of anger shot down through his insides, arms crossing over his chest as he pouted back at the girl who was supposed to be his friend.

Pidge said something to Keith with an eye roll, leaving the Slytherin table and sauntering across the room to join him.  Plopping down onto the opposite bench, she quirked an eyebrow quizzically.  “So, how are you holding up?”

Lance frowned down into his coffee cup, watching the curls of steam float off the thankfully still piping hot liquid.  Taking a small sip, he huffed.  “Didn’t your new friend tell you all about it,” he muttered, avoiding her piercing and judgmental eyes.

Even without looking, he could hear the unamused expression she shot at him clear as day in her voice.  “As a matter of fact, he did bring it up.  But not before Hunk told me last night after you told him.  And Keith only mentioned it now because I’m the Head Girl.”

Sparing a quick glance up, he frowned harder.  “What, so you can keep an eye on me or something?”

Pidge snorted in response.  “No, you dolt.  Because it affects our duties together, so he told me so we could come up with a schedule that works for everyone.  Jeez, Lance, what kind of monster do you think he is?”

“The friend stealing, secretly evil but everyone is fooled by it type,” he mumbled bitterly, feeling the corners of his mouth turn downward in a grimace.

The Ravenclaw girl shook her head sadly, pinching the bridge of her nose with a sigh.  “I really wish I could understand your absurd dislike for him, seeing as how he’s probably the nicest person at this school, next to Hunk.”

Lance scowled.  “Don’t say that about him, he’s a Slytherin.  Nice isn’t in their vocabulary.”

“Then why does he tutor struggling students in his free time,” she shot back dryly, giving him a rather flat look.

“He’s cunning, Pidge, that’s what cunning people do.  They trick others into thinking they’re good people, and then turn around and become the next dark lord.”

Brown eyes rolled hard at his absurdity.  “Whatever you say, Lance.  Maybe if you stopped being a jerk to him, you’d come to see what everyone else knows.”

“And end up brainwashed by false charm?  Not going to happen.  I’ll just remain vigilant in my suspicions, and when the time comes that the little snake shows his fangs, I’ll be there to stop him before we all end up enslaved or something.”

Pidge gave him a weird look, like he’d grown a second head or something, brows slightly furrowed as her mouth sat agape in disbelief.  After a beat, she slammed it shut.  “I can’t tell if you’re serious or not, but I’m leaning towards seriously insane.  Who knows, maybe living under the same shared roof will do both of you some good.”

 It was Lance’s turn to stare back open mouthed, eyes wide in horrific surprise.  “You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack,” she deadpanned, sliding from the bench in one swift and fluid motion.  Hiking her school bag up onto her shoulder, she glanced down at him momentarily, adjusting her glasses so they obscured her eyes behind the glare of light ricocheting off the lenses.  “I hope you learn to get along, but even if you can’t, try to be civil.  I’d still like to graduate with you.”

Without another word, she turned and walked away. 

Lance watched her go until she disappeared out the large open doors, feeling a slight twinge of jealousy over the fact she or any one of the students could leave so easily, yet he was stuck inside that room against his will, waiting for a person he could never see himself tolerating.

A small voice inside his head reminded him he was partially to blame for their mutual suffering, but he pushed it away.  It wasn’t the time for regret.

* * *

 

The last class of the afternoon could not possibly come fast enough.  Not only was Keith insistent on showing up to all classes at least ten minutes before they were allowed into the room, but he refused to allow for any chit-chat afterward, shooting off annoyed looks anytime Lance tried to get a little bit friendly with a new classmate he’d never had the pleasure of previously meeting.

And to make matters even worse, he couldn’t decide which classes were harder to get through, the ones spent with a bunch of shitty Slytherin glaring daggers at him like they were just itching to Avada him at any moment, or those spent with Gryffindor, where his entire house shot him pitying looks and whispered Merlin knows what behind his back.

In the end, it was probably the fact that Keith remained nearly unfazed the entire afternoon that really pissed him off, to the point that he wanted to scream.

No matter which group were looking their direction, Keith never once broke under the pressure, or let the mask of indifference he had obnoxiously acquired just as they left the Great Hall even once slip from his face.  It was almost as if he really didn’t care, which was all the more infuriating.

Every little annoyance grew and grew inside of him, his temper reaching a dangerous crescendo as they sat before the cauldron, reading over the instructions that Professor Slughorn had just finished writing on the board on how to brew a successful Felix Felicis potion. 

“You will have the entirety of class to finish up the potion.  If you do it right, it shouldn’t take more than half the allotted time, but that in no way means I think you should hurry.  Like all potions, rushing will only end in disaster.  When you have copied down the instructions, you are free to begin.”

Keith’s quill flew across the parchment at a dizzying pace, his dark eyes occasionally flicking upward to study the words, before they shot back down to finish the recipe.  Lance glanced around and saw most partnered students only writing down one copy, but something told him Keith wasn’t going to be in the sharing kind of mood.

Heaving a sigh, he made quick notes on his own parchment, using abbreviations to cut the time down to half.  Before he could even make it partway through the list of necessary items, Keith was already out of his chair, hurrying over to the ingredients cabinet to collect that which they didn’t already have on hand.

When they were all finished with the first task, most of the other students got straight to work cutting, juicing, powdering, and measuring the necessary amounts of every item, a quiet hum of hushed voices buzzing around the room as each pair talked through their plan.

Keith was utterly silent an arm’s length away from him, already grinding up the Occamy eggshell and pouring the resulting tiny sharp pieces into a wide mouthed vial to make adding it to the concoction later all that much easier. 

Lance pursed his lips and reached for the Murtlap growth, taking out his paring knife and angling it over the tentacled blob in an attempt to chop it into small bits. 

Before he could even make a single incision in the anemone-like mass, Keith grabbed hold of his wrist tightly.  “What do you think you’re doing,” he asked, tone a little more annoyed than it really should have been, considering the situation.

Lance shot him an incredulous look, motioning toward the board with his knife-less hand.  “Chopping up the Murtlap growth, like the instructions say to do.”

Shaking his head, Keith’s brow furrowed.  “I know they say to chop it, but slicing each tentacle individually into quarter-inch little bits works best when making a successful Felicis potion.  Doing what you were about to might ruin the ingredient.”

Blue eyes rolled as Lance let out a snort of disbelief.  “The Professor wrote down chop, so I’m going to chop.  I’ve been following his instructions since first year, and I’ve never gotten a potion wrong yet.”

“I understand that, but you’re doing it the wrong way.  If you remember from our lecture about Murtlap growth, the tentacles are sensitive and easily powdered once removed from the creature.  If you don’t want to accidentally destroy most of the ingredient, you need to cut carefully.  It isn’t something you can just pulverize like you’re itching to do.”

“And who made you the expert on Murtlap,” Lance huffed, pulling his wrist away to resume his work.  He managed to make three full precise chops before Keith snatched the knife away from him.  “What the fuck, mullet, you’re going to hurt someone if you do shit like that.”

Jaw clenched and eyes hard, Keith gave him a look that could curdle milk.  “Why are you so insistent on listening to no one, no matter how much better at a subject they are than you?  I’ve been top of the class for the last 3 years, which means that while you have yet to receive a failing mark, I have managed to out potion you regardless.  Why is that, do you suppose?”

“Because you’re a Slytherin and Slughorn is biased,” he spat, knowing that the potion’s Professor was probably the least biased head of house there had ever been.  He cared more for exceptional ability than he ever did house pride, and thus no favoritism was ever shown to anyone who didn’t truly deserve it.

Keith cocked an eyebrow, knowing that Lance wasn’t actually convinced.  “I’m so sure.  The real reason is that I study the ingredients by themselves, as well as potions as a whole.  Knowing the best way to utilize something will always give better results than following the instructions as they come.  Slughorn knows this, he’s trying to trip people up.  Words are fickle, at best, but science is absolute.”

Lance scoffed at that, feeling his annoyance levels rising once more.  “I highly doubt the way I chop my ingredient is going to matter much.  This isn’t home ec, we aren’t going to be graded on how pretty everything is before we throw it into the same pot.”

Handing the knife back over, Keith shrugged.  “Fine, have it your way.  I’ll speak with Slughorn afterward and see if he’ll let me prove I could have made it better if I wasn’t forced to cooperate with you.  I’m sure he’ll understand, knowing how thick-headed you can be.”

Keith didn’t bother him for the rest of the class, just sat there quietly and handed over every ingredient as Lance requested them, in correct order, the occasional frown knitting his brow.  Once he had added in the final little vial of powder, Lance stirred the concoction vigorously, then returned the flame one more time so it could all simmer together nicely. 

Standing up, he waved his wand over the steaming grey-brown liquid in a figure eight motion.  “ _Felixempra_ ,” he muttered, watching as the mixture bubbled up, changing hue to a rich and creamy maple.

Keith snorted, crossing arms over his chest.  “I told you the way you chop the Murtlap matters.  Not only that, but you added a lot more than a dash of tincture of thyme, and you clearly don’t understand the meaning of the word slow, because that was far from a slow stir after you added the Occamy eggshell.”

Lance grit his teeth.  “The end result of the potion sitting for six months is the molten gold hue.  Maybe it changes some from now until then.  Besides, look at everyone else.  No one’s potion looks like gold.  Matilda and Alastair’s looks jet black!”

The other boy didn’t so much as spare a glance around them; instead, he smirked.  “I don’t need to look to know that everyone else made the same mistake you did.  No one gets Felix Felicis right their first try, and it is precisely because they mistreat the Murtlap growth that they fail.  Slughorn will, of course, count anything that comes even close to golden by the end of six months a passing grade, but our potion won’t ever be potent enough to grant good fortune for more than an hour at most.”

“So, you’re saying this is all my fault because I won’t just obey your every command?”  The sound of blood rushing through his veins filled his ears with a dull roar, the heat in his face growing steadily by the second.

Keith crossed arms over his chest, looking completely unamused.  “No one asked you to obey anything, but it wouldn’t hurt if you actually listened to someone’s advice every now and then.  If you’re going to drag my grade down for the remainder of the year, I’m going to request an exception to this ridiculous ‘must be partnered’ rule.  I can follow instructions, it’s clear that you cannot.”

“I did everything the instructions said to do, so don’t act all superior just because you think you’re right,” Lance seethed, beginning to actually see the color red.  Holding back his irritation was never his strong suit, but Keith had a way of throwing the gears into hyperdrive with just one look.

“I am right,” Keith said slowly, like that would make it any less condescending.  “Like I said, I’ve been top potions student for years now.  I think my knowledge on the subject is pretty solid.  You messed up, and now our potion is trash.”

“Your face is going to be trash if you don’t shut the fuck up, asshole.”

Keith raised both eyebrows high on his forehead in surprise before a slight smirk pulled at one side of his mouth.  “Oh?  And I suppose you’ll do what, exactly?”  Tilting his head to the side he waited a beat for the answer, but it never came.  With a bark of laughter, he slowly rose to his feet.  “Next time, just do us both a favor and stop trying to be better than me, McClain.  You’ll never get there without actual work.”

The other turned to leave and the dam inside Lance finally broke beneath the weight of everything that had happened that day.  His temper flared liquid fire through his chest, limbs moving of their own accord as he slipped his wand from his pocket and pointed it at that stupid, ugly mullet.

“ _Flipendo_ ,” he growled, feeling a rush of satisfaction when Keith stumbled forward suddenly like he’d been shoved by an invisible force.

Spinning around, a look of outrage flashed across his pale face.  Yanking his own wand out of his robes, Keith gripped it tightly and opened his mouth to counterattack.  “ _Petrificus_ -“

Lance didn’t wait for him to finish the curse, shooting out another spell before his body was locked in attention.  “ _Impedimenta_ ,” he cried, and the other was thrown backward once more, falling awkwardly into the neighboring table.

Dark eyes bore into Lance with a look of intense loathing, the Slytherin’s jaw clenching as he scrambled to his feet.  “ _Melofors_ ,” he snarled in retort.

Lance blocked the jinx easily with a quick nonverbal shielding charm, grinning lazily when the other’s face burned bright red in anger.  The words to a very nasty pimple jinx were on the tip of his tongue, when suddenly, it snapped up painfully against the roof of his mouth as if someone had put it there by force. 

Eyes wide with shock, he looked over at Keith, who appeared to be just as confused as he was, and mildly uncomfortable.

“ _Expelliarmus_ ,” Slughorn’s voice boomed from the front of the classroom, just as both of their wands went flying from their grips.  “ _Accio wands_.”  Gooseberry eyes flitted back and forth between the two of them, a look of disappointment on his mustached face.  “If you two can assure me you will refrain from any more attacks, I will release the Langlock on your tongues.”

Both boys nodded in unison, watching the large man flick his wrist deftly before they regained the ability to swallow.  The entire classroom was eerily silent as the two awaited further punishment, of which both knew was likely to be dire.

Professor Slughorn ran a hand over his shiny bald head, leveling them with his intense gaze.  “I’m afraid you’ll need to see me after class so we can discuss this little issue.  Everyone else clean up, I’ll be coming around to collect your potions for safe keeping until they’re ready to grade.  You two, stay where you are until the rest of the class is excused.”

Everyone nodded quietly, the two reprimanded boys standing about awkwardly as the other students made their way around them. 

Lance caught sight of Shay’s sad brown eyes from across the room, and he knew without a doubt that the fellow Hufflepuff girl would be informing his friend of what had transpired there that afternoon.  Which meant he’d be getting a stern talking to sooner or later, if he could avoid expulsion for that long.

Keith didn’t so much as look his way the entire time they waited, mouth set in a firm line as he watched his feet like they were the most interesting thing he had ever laid eyes upon.  There was some slight chance that was the truth, but Lance figured he was actually just attempting to control his own temper.

By the time the last student had finally left, the potion’s professor was sitting behind his desk, small reading spectacles resting upon his large nose as he looked over a piece of parchment with a sour expression.  Glancing up, he motioned them both forward with a wave of his hand.

“Well, I’m afraid to say that this counts as a strike against you both,” he mumbled, removing the glasses from his face with a sad sigh.  “I had hopes that the threat of expulsion would keep you better behaved for the time being, but it appears the two of you are doomed to fail.”

Lance shook his head adamantly.  “No, Professor.  It was just the sudden change, that’s all.  I promise we’ll try harder to get along in the future.”  He offered up one of his best genuinely sincere looking smiles, earning another sigh in response.

Keith cleared his throat, eyes still slightly downcast.  “Yes, sir.  It won’t happen again.  Our completed education means more to us than petty squabbles.”

Slughorn nodded his head, seeming to be pleased with their reactions.  “I should hope so, for both of your sake.  It isn’t difficult to get along with someone you dislike, if only you put your mind to it.”  Glancing around, he leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a low hum.  “Between us, I wouldn’t have reported it, seeing as how no one got hurt.  But public displays of aggression are bound to get back to Minerva, and I’ll be damned if I let myself fry for failure to cooperate in this sham of a punishment.”

Lance blinked in shocked surprise, sparing a sidelong glance to Keith, who was frowning ever so slightly.  Before the Head Boy could voice his own thoughts, Lance beat him to the punch.  “Well, thank you, sir.  We’ll do better in the future.  You can count on us.”

“Yes, yes.  Clean up, and you may go.  No more fights in the middle of the classroom, understood?”

They nodded in unison, then got to work tidying up their mess.  Before they could leave without them, Professor Slughorn returned each of their wands, once again reiterating that public fights were not the answer to any of their problems, no matter how tempting the thought may be. 

Lance frowned at the strange twinkle in the professor’s eye as he watched them go but otherwise didn’t think much of it.  The man was a little odd, and he’d heard that it was his last year teaching, anyway.  Perhaps old age had finally gotten to him.

It was still a little bit before dinner time, but Lance was so tired when they finally made it back to their room, he wondered if it would be possible to just go to bed and forgo nourishment altogether.  Keith looked about as tired as he felt, so surely it wouldn’t be that hard to convince him.

The second the door closed behind them, he found himself shoved up against the wall so roughly his teeth clacked together painfully.  Violet-indigo eyes burned fire up at him from their two-inch height difference, Keith’s facial features a wash of pure, unadulterated rage.

A hiss of air escaped his lips, teeth barring like a feral cat’s as his fingers wound into the fabric of Lance’s robes, yanking him down to eye level.  “I swear to Merlin I won’t hesitate to kill you on the spot if you get me kicked out of this place because you’re too fucking immature to play nice for appearance’ sake.”

Lance’s mouth went dry, eyes skipping back and forth over the other’s gaze as he heard the truth evident in his tone.  Swallowing hard, he gave a small nod.  “Understood.  But the same goes for you.  Being a dick and then blaming me for not taking it lying down is just as bad as losing your temper and attacking first.”

Keith snarled, the sound rumbling from his throat.  “If you have a problem with something, you can take it up with me here.  Alone.  Where no one can witness it.  I don’t care how pissy you are at the time, step one foot out of line in front of someone who can snitch, and I’ll make you regret it for the rest of your very short life.”

“So, you’re giving me permission to do whatever I want to you, just as long as it’s unnoticed by anyone else?”  His voice cracked halfway through his sentence, and he ignored the way his heart rate picked up speed, far too focused on the unreadable expression that spasmed suddenly across the other’s face.

In an instant Keith was stoic as a marble statue, eyes cold and emotionless as they bore straight into his soul.  “I don’t give a shit what you do, as long as it doesn’t end up getting me expelled in the process.”

Lance swallowed around the lump slowly forming in his throat.  “And you won’t use your position against me?  It isn’t fair to say I can hex you into next month, only to turn around and dock points because you can’t take it.”

“Oh, I can take it, McClain.  The question is, can you?”  Releasing his hold, he spun on his heels, storming his way up to his room before closing the door with an echoing slam.

_Holy shit, what in Merlin’s name was that?  What did I just agree to?_

After a long and hollow beat of silence, Lance pushed himself off the wall, forcibly tearing his eyes away from the place the other had disappeared to.  With his heart pounding wildly in his chest, he slunk up to his own room like a reprimanded child, desperate for something intangible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a long monstrosity of a chapter. Hope I'm not steadily losing interest for this thing by keeping them at odds.  
> Things are going to be a long and slow roller coaster of ups and downs, with lots of low points before they get their act together.  
> But I did say _enemies_ to friends to lovers, and what kind of enemies are going to play nice after one single day?  
>  I'll try to keep my tags current as things change shape with this fic, so if you find something you dislike and want to yell at me for failure to warn you, just let me know. I'll change things up to assure no one is blindsided by anything they don't feel comfortable with.
> 
> I'm kind of sleep deprived, so if anything is wonky, let me know? I'll try to fix it up, along with any mistakes that my program and eyes failed to catch. ^^
> 
> I am a chatty McChat Pants, so feel free to discuss all manner of things with me or even just a quick little blurb about what you enjoyed/want to see more of. :D  
> Comments make my world go round.


	5. Fighting Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith has Head Boy duties, Lance has Quidditch practice.  
> Things begin to change...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for a long ass chapter. It was necessary.  
> Also, I changed the rating, et cetera. Just a fair warning.

If Keith thought classes were bad, taking Lance along on his Head Boy duties was even worse.  It’s like it was his mission to complain Keith to death; and thus far, only two full days into their year-long punishment, he was succeeding with flying colors.  Which was a shame, because he really thought things were going to be a little more… quiet between the two of them after their little ‘talk.’

Less of a talk, more of a mutual threat, but he’d be damned if he didn’t uphold his end of their peculiar bargain and keep his annoyance for the other contained to four walls and the safety of uncompromised privacy. 

The details were a little fuzzy, at best, but he assumed they’d agreed to be civil to one another while out in the open where other people could see.  Behind closed doors, however, they were free to fight one another on a whim and without consequence.

Which led him to his current predicament; walking through the corridor on their way to the fifth-floor prefect bathrooms, a very pouty Gryffindor at his heels. How Lance thought whining and moping was considered civil was thoroughly beyond him, but it had gotten on his nerves so horribly the entirety of the day, that had they been alone right then, he would have hexed the guy into a permanently comatose state.

That was both an upside and a downside to their arrangement; a slight satisfaction at knowing he could strike hard without repercussion, and the constant worry that he might be brutalized at any moment; although nothing had really stopped either of them from hexing one another just for kicks before they’d agreed it was officially open season. 

It almost felt freer, somehow, knowing that he could expect Lance to attack him whenever he felt the unyielding itch, and that he’d do whatever the hell he wanted, without having to worry about risking their asses. 

A slight flush covered his cheeks when he thought about the strange glint he’d seen flash through the other’s eyes when they’d discussed that little part of things. It almost looked like... desire. He resisted the urge to glance back and see if the guy had noticed his sudden embarrassment, and if he'd know what it all meant.  Instead, he walked a little faster.

Lance’s tone had held a hint of something unfamiliar, and for a moment, he’d allowed himself to pretend like they were talking about other things.  Dangerous things.  Things someone like Lance wouldn’t be talking about concerning someone like Keith.  Things Keith hadn’t thought about in years but were now bubbling up inside of him due to their close proximity and something stupid like hormones.

Shaking his head, he pushed the thoughts away, quickening his already speedy pace.  Lance would keep up, the threat of being caught breaking the rules again would assure as much.  Which was a small fragment of pleasure he got for having to deal with all of his nonsensical flirtings for the past two days, directed at any girl who got within a three-foot radius of the lecher. 

Honestly, the idiot would flirt with a tree if you put a skirt on the thing, if his taste in the various women he’d hassled lately was any indication to his preferred type.  Which is to say, his qualifications were limited.  Anything female, and within a certain age range and limited attractiveness, bordering on anything female that could also move. 

He’d only yet to flirt with the elderly librarian when they’d stopped in to return Keith’s book earlier that evening, but the woman would probably hex his bollocks off if he so much as tried.  Also, anyone who appeared to be younger than fourth year was thankfully not under his radar, as far as Keith could tell.  The rest seemed to be fair game.

It shouldn’t annoy him, but it did.  He chalked it up to the fact that he couldn’t stand listening to Lance attempt and fail to be smooth, but an inkling somewhere deep inside his gut said it might be for far more twisted and aggravating reasons. 

He didn’t dwell on it, though, because that was just asking for trouble.  Anything involving Lance McClain and his emotions was like throwing water onto a grease fire, and he simply refused to make that mistake… again.

Turning the corner, he caught sight of Katie, already running through the schedule the two of them had altered at the last minute the day before, after a certain someone unexpectedly fucked their previous one by existing and being a twat. 

Some of the prefects were scheduled for different days of the week and with changing partners, the rotation varying between houses and genders to assure no two students in the same house were ever walking the halls together and letting their house get away with mischief.  It was only fair to be as impartial as possible.

The first shift had him and Katie taking the top four floors, a seventh year Hufflepuff girl and third year Gryffindor boy taking the bottom three.  The remaining prefects were briefed on their own days and times, being excused shortly thereafter with the warning that being out of bed in the next fifteen minutes still counted as a deduction of points, no matter their reasoning and status.

After they left, Katie turned to him with an oddly tight smile on her face.  “Well, ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he mumbled angrily, casting a sidelong glance at Lance as he attempted to flirt with a sixth year Ravenclaw prefect on her way back up to their tower.

Katie shot him an equally miffed look that said she understood his plight, though it was probably for different reasons entirely.  Marching over, she grabbed the idiot by his tie and yanked him off down the hall.  “Come on, Casanova.  Just because you’re forced into coming along doesn’t mean I won’t dock points if you keep students out past curfew.”

Lance swore under his breath, stumbling awkwardly as their height differences forced him into a half-crouch.  “Ouch, okay.  Okay, Pidge.  You can let go now, I’ll follow along.”  The girl released him with a wicked grin on her face, and he straightened out his now crumpled maroon tie and matched her pace.  “Jeez, a simple come here would have sufficed.”

Katie hummed in amusement, lifting one arm up in a shrug.  “I know, but it’s more fun to lead you away on a leash.”

Keith snickered behind his hand, falling into step with the two of them on Katie’s opposite side.  “So, I take the top two floors, you take the bottom two, we meet back here when were finished and call it a night?”

The Ravenclaw girl beamed at him, batting her eyelashes playfully.  “Oh Keith, it’s like you know me or something.”

Lance snorted loudly in response.

Ignoring him, Keith gave the girl a gentle wave, stopping before he ascended the bottommost step.  “See you on the other side.”

The two boys went up the flight of stairs, the girl went down.

A long and obnoxious sigh fell from Lance’s mouth as they finally reached the seventh floor, Keith pulling out his wand to cast a quick lighting spell to see with.  Glancing over his shoulder, he shot an unamused look the other’s way.

Lance only rolled his eyes.  “What, this is fucking boring and I can’t believe I’m forced to follow you around like a faithful mutt.  I stopped being a prefect _because_ it was boring as all hell.”  Kicking at the ground, he stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets.  “Plus, it cut into my me time,” he mumbled bitterly.

“I’m sure you had loads of things that were more important,” Keith stated dryly, heading off down the hallway with a soft patter of echoing steps.

“Sneer all you want, Mullet, but some of us have actual _lives_ and enjoy living them.  Just because you’re perfectly content with kissing McGonagall’s ass day and night doesn’t mean the rest of us like the taste of shit.”

Spinning around, eyes narrowed into menacing slits as he grit his teeth in frustration.  “Why are you always the most obnoxious person in the room at all times?”

Lance’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead.  “Wow, didn’t know you had such a boner for the Headmistress there, Kogane.  Wrinkly old broads do it for you, hm?  Not surprising, you do spend a lot of time in the library, as well.”

Without thinking, Keith fired off a silent Levicorpus, dangling the other upside down by his ankles as he yelped in surprise and flailed in the air.  Blood instantly rushed to his tan face, and Keith wondered how much of it was from anger, and how much from gravity.

“What the fuck, dick,” Lance snarled.  “Put me down! We had a deal.”

Grinning wickedly, Keith shrugged.  “The deal was whenever there were no witnesses, and since it’s after curfew and we’re on the seventh floor, I can guarantee there are going to be no witnesses.”  After a beat of listening to Lance grunt and watching him struggle for his own wand, Keith chuckled and silently cast Liberacorpus, watching as he fell onto his back with a pleasing thunk.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Lance wheezed, lying on the floor motionless despite his threat.

“You deserve worse for being a prat all day long.  Be thankful, I could have left you up there until you lost consciousness, but I was feeling a tad bit generous.”

Throwing up his hand in a rude gesture, the Gryffindor boy remained silent for a while, before he lifted his head a few inches to glare daggers.  “I’m going to be the bigger person here and refrain from retaliation for the time being, but only because I’m not as suicidal as you are and actually want to graduate.  When you least expect it, I’m going to pound you into the dirt.”

“I’m quaking,” Keith deadpanned, stepping over Lance’s person and continuing his way down the hall.  After a few paces, he glanced over his shoulder with a smirk.  “Better hurry and keep up, wouldn’t want to be caught breaking the rules.”

* * *

 

Lance hadn’t hexed him the moment they’d made it back after Head Boy duties, which is what he’d expected the sulking idiot to do, which also might have been why he’d decided against it altogether.  Keith was far too on edge to be caught off guard, so Lance mumbled a quick fuck you asshole and slunk off to bed.

That didn’t stop him from hitting Keith with the pus-squirting hex the moment he stepped from the bathroom after his morning piss, effectively ruining his clothing that day as yellow goo leaked from both of his nostrils for a good half an hour afterward.  They’d missed breakfast because Keith refused to leave in such a state, but Lance just shrugged and leaned back against the counter to eat his cereal, a satisfied gleam sparkling in his ocean blue eyes.

The remainder of the day was uneventful, thankfully, and they’d managed to keep themselves from crossing the line during their Defense class, which was surprising, seeing as how they were supposed to be shooting off hexes at one another and successfully blocking them. 

Lance and Keith may have been the most readily eager of the bunch, but their Professor only complimented their passion and drive, ignoring their determination to secretly land a detrimental blow.

That tired them both out so fiercely that they’d forgotten their little tiff for the moment, marching straight up to their respective rooms once they finished up the last class of the day, refusing to come out until it was utterly necessary.

The sound of the shower running drew his attention away from his Charms essay, glancing over at the wall and then at the clock.  Lance had told him his Quidditch practice was at five o clock sharp, and to be ready to leave by four forty, which made the fact Lance was showering right then with a full hour to spare oddly fitting.

_Leave it to Lance to get clean just to turn around and sweat profusely a little while later._

Turning back to his essay, he released a quiet and breathy sigh.  The paper wasn’t due until the following Monday, but the itch to do _something_ productive was sinking deep into his skin.  He’d be trapped for the entirety of the hour-long practice sitting in the stands, watching the team for a house he wasn’t even a part of strive toward being the best of the bunch.  It felt almost _intrusive_.  Like a glimpse of something that could have been.

Quidditch had never really interested Keith much in the past, and not because he didn’t enjoy flying or sports.  He very much loved watching live games with his brother when he was younger, and even considered joining a team at some point, though that fit along more with his old, forgotten dreams of his youth.  By the time he’d made it to second year, playing Seeker for the Slytherin team just wasn’t as tempting as playing Seeker for Gryffindor.

It gave him a lot more time to focus on important things, anyhow, like studying and proper spell pronunciation; things that would actually benefit him later on when he became an Auror.  Flying around chasing a tiny golden ball only helped if he was pursuing a dark wizard that learned how to shapeshift into a snitch.  In the end, he didn’t regret his decision in the least.

A strange whispering sound pulled him from his thoughts, brow creasing slightly as he strained his ears hard to identify it.  The only thing that met him was the pitter patter of water falling softly against the tile walls, and the shifting of a presence somewhere in the room beyond his own, the subtle sound of floor creaking beneath a heavy weight.

It was odd, but it didn’t happen again so he shrugged it off, returning focus back to his homework.  Without warning, Binx jumped up onto his desk, knocking over his inkwell with her paw and spilling it all over the place.  Keith practically levitated out of his seat, letting out an undignified yelp of surprise.

“Quiznak, cat,” he gasped, scooting his chair back to avoid the ink dripping steadily onto the floor, marring the beige carpet in splatters of black.  Running a hand through his hair, he smiled sheepishly at his silly outburst.  

Binx blinked at him slowly, an air of indifference tinging her look of haughty expectancy.

Another smile quirked his lips.  “You nearly gave me a heart attack,” he murmured soothingly as he stroked along her spine, pulling out his wand with the other hand and magicking the mess back into the little container. 

His essay was of course ruined, but he hadn’t gotten all that far to begin with, so there was a silver lining of some sort.  Mismatched eyes stared at him intently once more, fluffy tail swishing as the feline made a strange noise in the back of her throat, almost like a choked cry.

“Yeah, yeah.  I haven’t given you nearly enough attention this year so far.  Perhaps I should have taken Shiro up on his offer to watch you during the school year so you didn’t get bored stuck in this room for months.”

Binx blinked once in agreement, twitching her ears back in annoyance.  That’s what he assumed, anyway, seeing as how the cat rarely made herself known unless she was bored or frightened.  Keith had made it a point to keep her far away from Lance’s temper and wand, so he figured she was angry at him for cooping her up for days on end without a decent space to roam around in.

“You want to leave this room, I suppose,” he asked with a small sigh, watching as the cat hopped down and scurried quickly toward the door.  Her head twisted around at an odd angle to look at him, a strange sound coming out of her mouth while she rubbed her side against the dark wood.  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Standing up slowly, another strange noise flitted softly across the room, catching him off guard.  He stared hard at Binx, brow furrowed in apprehension, but she didn’t appear to be the culprit this time, and he wondered if it was just his imagination.  It almost sounded like…

Shaking his head, he ignored the way his heart rate picked up speed.  There was no way he’d heard _that_.  Probably just a creak in the floorboard or the hum of water rushing through the pipes. 

Binx pawed at the door frantically, her little cries like chattering bells as she grew impatient for him to finally let her out.

“Fine,” he relented, crossing the room in three large strides.  “But only for a little while.  Stay out of trouble, okay?”

In a streak of black, she disappeared out into the area beyond, diving beneath the safety of the couch.

Before he could so much as close thing back up the same sound tugged his attention away, spilling out from the crack underneath the bathroom door.  Eyes widened in mild shock, heart leaping into his throat as he caught another mewl of pleasure, mixing soft with the cascade of shower water and the rise and fall of heavily stuttered breath.

Heat flooded his cheeks at the implications of the little noises.  Either Lance’s shampoo was heavenly, the hot water was working out some sort of stiffness in his muscles and it felt really great, or the guy was actually touching himself not even four whole feet away.  Another moan drifted past him, breathy and wanton and _so fucking hot._

Gritting his teeth, he glared daggers at the innocent wood.  How could this possibly be happening right now?  Surely Lance would have cast a charm on the bathroom if he was going to… _do that_ , right?  It wasn’t like they both didn’t know how easily you could hear through the thin walls, or that he could have forgotten Keith’s bedroom was literally on the other side of the showerhead.

A keening whine, louder this time, reverberated around the small room in an echoing and haunting sough.  The little pants that followed made Keith’s blood run hot through his veins, heartbeat pulsing a rapid staccato under his skin.  There was no doubt in his mind what Lance was doing in there, no excuse that could fit the situation otherwise.

_Fuck.  What do I do?  What should I do?  Fuck._

Lance’s huffs and grunts of pleasure built in both tone and pace, the occasional muffled chant of _ah, ah, ah,_ making Keith’s head spin, feet steadily moving closer of their own accord.  It was like a siren song, a captivating spell that drew him into chaos, steering his being without caring about the repercussions.  He hated it, mostly because he didn’t hate it as much as he should.

The closer he got the louder it became, until it was a deafening cacophony of assaulting tones.  Standing just outside the bathroom, his ears picked up on the chorus of water falling heavy against muscle and limbs, bouncing muted off of curves and dips and angles, before it trickled down down down onto the cultured stone with a spattering hum.

He wanted to leave, run back up the steps and slam his door, casting imperturbable charm after imperturbable charm on every surface he could, until the ringing stopped and his head cleared out entirely; but his muscles refused to listen to the signal from his brain, gluing him to the spot against his will.

_What if I get caught?  This is so wrong.  Why am I even standing here?_

As his eyes swept over the hazel colored wood, he could almost picture Lance’s lithe, tanned form standing hunched beneath the flow of hot water, one arm braced against the cobalt blue tiles as his eyes slipped shut and his other arm pumped lazily at his length, quickening sporadically from time to time as his orgasm reached a crescendo of pooling warmth in his lower gut.

The image made Keith’s own insides churn wildly, arms hanging limp and useless at his sides.

_Fuck._

Lance’s moans continued to beat incessantly against his eardrums, his fingers twitching with painful desire as he stood there, stock-still, biting his lip hard to keep his own whimpering sound from clawing its way up and out of his throat.

It was wrong, but his body reacted of its own free will, a rush of blood flow hitting his groin hard as his own breath began to come out in short, quick puffs.  Fingertips ghosted over the fabric of his trousers, gooseflesh rippling down his back and thighs as he drew ever closer to the tightness in his pants.  A little voice inside spurred him onward, fighting against the rational part of his brain.

_Why would he do that right next to my room if he didn’t want to be heard?_

It was insane, he knew as much, but the little glimmer of hope that shot through his chest quelled the anxiety ripping apart his stomach.  Perhaps Lance just didn’t care who heard him through the walls.  Perhaps he did this often so it never crossed his mind to worry about Keith sitting only a few feet away.  Perhaps he _knew_ and yet did it anyway.

Lance came with a sharp cry, panting loudly on the other side of the door, a string of expletives tumbling from his lips.

Shame burned Keith’s cheeks as he backed slowly away, spinning on his heel and rushing up the stairs into the safety of his room.  Falling against the wall, he swiped a hand down his face, pulling back in surprise when he found it slick and caked with sweat.

 _What the fuck was that,_ he wondered, kicking off after a beat and shuffling over to his desk.  Plopping down into the seat, he studied the ink-stained piece of parchment like it might hold the answers to his questions, staying that way until his breathing steadied and his heart rate slowed back to a normal thrum.

The water turned off a minute or so later, the scrape of metal running along the track telling him that the other was finally stepping out of the tub. 

Lance spent a good twenty more minutes inside the bathroom, humming loud and off key as he did… whatever it was he did behind the still closed door.  Even when it opened, footsteps padding across the room, followed shortly by the resounding shake of wall that signified that the coast was clear, Keith still stared hard at the ruined parchment on his desk, mouth dry and throat scratchy.

A knock sounded at his door sometime later.  “Mullet, get a move on already.  I don’t want to be late.”

Blinking back the haze of fog coating his brain, Keith licked his lips nervously, wondering if his tone would betray him, or if he could keep calm despite the uneasy feeling still weighted in his gut.  “Alright, I’ll be out in a second,” he called, voice hoarse and strained from lack of use.

The sound of Lance leaving was the only thing that indicated he'd heard and accepted the response.

* * *

 

The sun was setting just over the horizon, pink and gold, rippled throughout with streaks of lavender and burnt sienna.  It was breathtaking, but that wasn’t what kept pulling Keith’s attention away from the pages of his novel, sadly forgotten for the fifteenth time in the last half hour since he sat down on the bench to pointedly ignore the team's little practice session.

It was the happy sound of twinkling laughter, the bronze glow of taut muscle in the evening’s dying light, and the bubbly warm sensation it seemed to cause in the deepest trenches of his stomach.  Lance made another impeccable shot through the goal, laughing heartily as the team’s Keeper, a seventh-year boy named Marcus, pouted.

“That’s alright, Bragge.  If I can get it past you, we’re sure to take the cup this year,” Lance grinned broadly at the stout boy, swooping closer on his broom to grab the Quaffle from his outstretched hand.

Marcus smiled reluctantly back, butting shoulders with his Captain playfully.  “I guess I shouldn’t be too disappointed I can’t stop one of your lightning fast goals, McClain.  You are the best Chaser on our team.  Best in the school, no doubt.”

Lance laughed another twinkling laugh, running an arm across his forehead to catch the little beads of sweat running down his face.  “I know you’ll be able to stop anyone else’s goals, so just keep up that good work.”  Throwing the Quaffle over to his teammate Jared Wright, Lance shot one last crooked smile at the Keeper.  “I’ll be aiming for the middle one this time,” he said with a wink.

Keith tried his best to drown them all out, but he was far too distracted by the easy and carefree way the other presented himself around people who were not _him_.  It wasn’t uncommon to see a mean scowl of a look planted hard on the other’s handsome features; it was like a punch to the teeth to witness him smiling and laughing and looking completely in his element.

Once again, Keith felt the uncomfortable twang of uncertainty in his gut, imagining a time and place where this scene was always the norm, and he was just another Gryffindor seventh year, happily supporting his team from the sidelines.

“What the hell are you looking at, _arsemonger_ ,” a voice snarled his direction.

Glancing over, he caught the blotchy red face of the Keeper as he glared daggers Keith’s way.  Rolling his eyes, he lifted his book back up to block himself from sight, trying and failing to find that spark of interest that would allow him to lose himself in the text.

“Just ignore him, Marcus.  If you get your knickers in a twist every time he comes around, we’ll never win the cup.  Pay attention to us, mate.  Use that energy where it matters most.” 

Lance’s voice rang out smooth and calming, but Keith resisted the urge to glance his direction, even for another second.  He shouldn’t be looking anyway, not after he found himself replaying the track of the other’s breathy whines over and over in his stupid head, placing the tone and pitch to various muscle movements and languid stretches.

 _I most assuredly do_ not _have a problem,_ he told himself grumpily, staring so hard at the page the words began to swim and blur. 

Practice could not end swiftly enough for him, and the moment Lance’s feet touched the pitch, he was out of his seat and down the steps quicker than you could say _fizzing whizbees_.  The Gryffindor team members waved farewell to their Captain, shooting varying degrees of sneers and glares Keith’s way as he waited patiently just outside the changing rooms for Lance to join him.

“Thanks,” Lance mumbled as he sauntered up, tan skin still flushed red and blotchy from exhaustion, though no longer dotted with beads of salty sweat.

Keith quirked an eyebrow at the Gryffindor, ignoring the churning sensation in his stomach as a wash of crisp heady scent rushed up to meet him.  He definitely didn’t expect the guy to smell _that good_ after sweating buckets for the last hour.

_Ah, fuck._

“I didn’t really have a choice, I’m kind of stuck here,” he said quietly, a slight frown creasing his brow as they fell into step.

Lance ran a hand through his sweaty hair, humming low in his throat.  “Yeah, but you made it easier than I thought you would considering I didn’t make your Head duties any less of a headache.  If I could come out here alone I definitely would, but I can’t and… well… thanks for not making it a hard time, I guess.”

Glancing sidelong at the other, Keith shrugged.  “I’m not as much of a dick as you are, I don’t get satisfaction out of making others miserable.”

“True,” Lance smirked, which was surprising considering the fact Keith had meant the comment to be a snub.  Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his robes, he lifted his face up to the last dwindling rays of light.  “I figured I’d have to throttle you after the practice, but now I’m pleased I can just eat, rinse off, and pass the fuck out.”

“What a shame,” Keith muttered, feeling his brow crease even harder.  Was the guy being… nice?  Doubtful, it was directed at Keith, after all.

Lance’s laugh was deep and rich, seeping down into his bones with a sickening warmth.  “Don’t worry, Mullet, I don’t plan on always going easy on you.  I’m just feeling really good about Quidditch this year, and I don’t want to mess up that high dealing with you any more than is absolutely necessary.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

They walked the rest of the way up to the castle in complete silence, stopping off in the Great Hall to catch the tail end of dinner.  Keith went to the Slytherin table, Lance to the Gryffindor, and both boys sat with their backs to one another, pretending like they weren’t about to be stuck together again once both of them had finished.

His appetite was pretty shot, all things considered, so he nibbled on a dinner roll and resigned himself to wait out the remainder in quiet contemplation.  Images flashed through his mind, tan skin glistening with sweat, muscles rippling as they moved with fluidity and grace, eyes so blue they were like a clear sky on a hot day. 

He shoved them aside, running various spell sequences in his head until someone cleared their throat behind him, pulling him from his daze.

“Ready,” Lance asked, already walking toward the exit without waiting for his response.

Keith followed at his own pace, hanging back quietly with just enough distance that he didn’t feel anxious, but still close enough that he couldn’t be reprimanded for it.  Lance left the door to their dorm open as he slunk inside, heading right back to the cursed bathroom that had doomed Keith to his fucked-up thoughts in the first place.

This time Keith cast his charms about the walls and door when he entered his bedroom, assuring that a repeat of that afternoon wasn’t like to follow.  A wave of total exhaustion washed over him, blanketing him in an itchy weight that sat tight and heavy in the place just beneath the topmost layer of his skin. 

Shucking out of his robes, he yanked the tie loose from his throat and over his head, popping the buttons of his dress shirt with angry little tugs.  His shoes came next, and then his trousers and socks, until the only article of clothing left was his boxer-briefs, before they too piled themselves in a heap on the floor.

Cool air caressed his naked flesh, sending delicate shivers up and down his spine.  He could put on his night clothes, dive beneath the soft sheets and hope that sleep was kind to him.  Instead, he fell upon the bed, grasping blindly for his green comforter before cocooning himself within its safe walls.  Flicking off the light, he closed his eyes.

The soft fabric brushed against his body as he shifted around to get comfortable, a rush of blood finding its way down between his thighs as it ghosted over the already sensitive area of his groin.  A soft moan fell from his lips, muscles tensing as they ached and screamed at him for splendid release.

He was not about to touch himself just because of Lance.

A hand slipped down slowly to palm the hot, engorged flesh, long fingers wrapping around his already half erect length and pulling gently, teasingly, until his hips bucked slightly of their own accord.  He whimpered quietly then rolled onto his back, tossing off the covers as pinpricks of sweat began to bead themselves around his hairline.

More images flashed through his mind, blue eyes and tan skin, accompanied with the little mewls of pleasure that had slowly built up from behind the bathroom door.  He worked himself nice and slow, eyes slipping shut as he recounted the scent of delicious sweat, the broad set of shoulders against a soft glow of pink light, and the breathy pants and whines he could almost pretend were right there with him then.

Waves of pleasure rippled through him, oxygen leaving his lungs in airy little huffs that mingled with the ones inside his own head, mixing together softly to paint a picture of different fingers working the length of his dick, of warm wetness swirling and teasing over his head the way his thumb did now, lapping up the bits of precum he was steadily massaging onto his shaft as a lubricant to work himself faster.

Toes curled in the sheets, body writhing as he picked up the pace, feeling the ache of imminent release already pooling in his gut.  The cries grew louder in his head, accompanied by his own echoing moans, hand pulling so fervently that it almost hurt, but somehow also made everything feel so much better and more _intense_.

Hips continued to buck as he worked himself harder, faster, with more intensity; his little moans becoming keening whines that trickled up to kiss his ears, desperate for the little push that would send him falling over the edge of contented bliss. 

The image of Lance touching himself in the shower at that exact same moment, unaware that they were both enjoying the sensation only feet apart, pushed him through the blockage.

Twisting his free hand into the blanket, he tugged himself through his last few seconds of budding ecstasy, until everything went pure white and he came hard and fast, dick twitching as it spilled cum all over his hand and lower stomach.

He laid there for a moment, breathing ragged and raspy as the rush of warmth flooded out of him, leaving his skin sticky and cold and sensitive.  Heaving sigh, he fumbled in the dark blindly for his wand, casting a quick scourgify on the mess before falling back upon the mattress with a soft thunk.

As he laid there quietly, eyes staring vacantly up at the fabric of his bed hangings, pulse slowing back down to a normal pace; he couldn’t help but think he most assuredly _did_ have a problem.  With a defeated groan, he snatched back up the comforter and fell into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for it to become that long, but I needed to start where I started, and end where it ended.  
> Sorry if I caught anyone off guard, I didn't want to warn about things and ruin it, but I did add the tags and rating change just in case.  
> There will definitely be more of _that_ in the future, so if you aren't into it, I can always add little warnings and ways to skip over that part and continue the actual story that will definitely be there underneath the occasional R-rated scene.  
>  Let me know!
> 
> As always, comments are loved and appreciated and make me smile. :)  
> Thanks for all of the love so far.  
> <3 <3 <3


	6. Certain Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance thinks a few unfortunate things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, sorry for the delay!  
> It wasn't much of a delay, but it was for me.  
> Mature content, fair warning.

Lance stood beneath the showerhead, a torrent of hot water soothing his aching limbs.  Quidditch practices had been brutal, more so than they ever had been in the previous years, and he couldn’t help but blame a certain dark-haired Slytherin for the abundance of angry energy his fellow teammates exhibited during it.

Having Mullet around might have been good for perfecting their aggressive plays, but it was killing his muscles keeping up with everyone.

Not that Keith was actually doing anything in particular.  Mostly he sat in the stands and read books while he waited for everyone to finish up.  His friends were just bitter that the idiot needed to be there in the first place, so they might have been taking out their frustration on him, which was justified since he was equally to blame for the predicament.

That didn’t make it any less annoying.

A sigh escaped his lips, head slipping beneath the stream of pounding water, feeling the tension slowly starting to leave his body.  The showers in the regular boy’s dorms were shit compared to these wonderful newly added ones in the Head dorm, not that he’d go singing their praises aloud to anyone.  He had an image to uphold, and couldn’t let people believe he actually _enjoyed_ being stuck in a small space with his greatest enemy.  He’d never hear the end of it.

It wasn’t the worst thing, not if he was honest with himself.  Being trapped together during classes and forced to follow each other around for their extracurricular actives was far, far worse.  In the privacy of their dorm, they kept as wide of a berth as humanly possible, rarely if ever occupying their common space at the same time.

Except when they were letting off a little steam and hexing one another viciously and without prior provocation.

Fingers twitched at his sides, the sudden urge for sexual release catching him wholly off guard.  He’d already performed his usual ritual of a pre-practice stress relieving wank, so it was odd that hours later his dick was already semi-hard and begging to be touched.  Not that he’d never jerked off more than one time in a day, he was a seventeen-year-old male, after all.  It was just strange he’d feel the want after already doing so and then exhausting himself with Quidditch.

Wrapping a hand around his length, he began tugging it lazily, enjoying the sensation of pleasure that crept up his backside and pooled in his lower gut.  Beads of cooling water trickled down his face as he leaned back against the wall, letting the heat from the shower pour over his lower half in a wash of deliciousness that found him pumping himself a little harder, dragging a surprisingly quick orgasm even closer.

A low groan rumbled in his throat, the squelching sound of his hand working his cock forcing his mind to wander interesting and new places.

Lance was never an imaginative masturbator, he relied on the feeling of pleasure alone to push him straight through to completion.  But that was before his new predicament, when he could easily sneak off into a broom closet with a willing girl and enjoy the feeling of a real mouth around his dick.  Now, after weeks of pent-up frustrations, he allowed the images to flitter across his brain uninhibited.

With the feeling of wetness warm around him, he could just imagine the creamy complexion of some faceless person, bent over in front of him as he worked them easily from behind.  The way their soft moans would sound slipping past their lips, the feeling of their back, ass, and thighs as he ran his hands over them, mapping out their body by touch alone.

He pumped harder still, the heat spreading up his stomach until it felt like he was aflame.  Breathy pants mixed with the steam that curled around the room, waves of ecstasy washing over him as he began rocking into his fist with each downward thrust, fucking the imaginary person until he began to see stars.

It was heavenly, their dark hair dripping wet from the shower water and sweat, keening whines spilling like pretty words from their lips.  They were putty in his hands, wrecked hard with just the thrust of his hips.  If he thought hard enough, he could even hear his name cried out in a breathy moan as he hit that sweet spot over and over again, pushing the two of them closer to the edge of whiteout bliss.

Ass and thighs curled smoothly against his groin, bucking back onto his dick with needy little mewls as he went deeper inside, clasping onto their waist until he bottomed out with a gasp of wanton desire.  His orgasm was coming up fast, heart thundering loudly in his ears as his breath stuttered inside of his lungs.

It was like he could taste it on the tip of his tongue, sweet relief mixed with just a hint of tangy euphoria.  Another moan of his name, the strangled gasp as he dragged them up forcefully by their hair to leave bruised marks along their shoulders and neck, riding them hard and fast towards elation.

Heavy-lidded purple eyes turned his way to gaze at him softly, their look burning through him with lustful desire.  A small smirk pulled one side of pouty lips, so familiar that his heart lurched for a moment before realization dawned and he squeezed his dick in shock, hard enough to make him wince. 

He tried to stop the forward momentum of his orgasm, but the pressure was enough to push it over, spilling hot cum onto the tiled floor as he whimpered softly, the imprint of those eyes still burned into his brain.

“Shit,” he hissed, dropping his dick like it was some sort of traitor.  “Fuck.  What the actual fuck?”

Water was still pouring in scalding streams from the showerhead, filling the room with steam so thick it was more like smoke.  His head fell back into the hard surface of the wall behind him, the ebb of his orgasm making his stomach churn with disgust.  He’d just gotten off, and to _Keith_ , no less.  And it was _phenomenal_ , even if he didn’t mean for it to be.

_FUCK._

When his limbs finally felt a little sturdier, he turned off the water angrily, stepping from the tub with a huff.  The mirror was fogged over, but he didn’t care, grabbing up the towel on the rack and wrapping it messily around his waist.  All he wanted to do was curl up in bed and pretend it had never happened.

Throwing open the door, he yelped at the sight of Keith’s wide-eyed expression, hand poised in midair like he was getting ready to knock.  The purple gaze swept down the length of his still dripping chest, catching sight of the towel hanging loosely on his hips before it shot off somewhere else in the room, a visible pink tinging his cheeks.

_Oh Merlin, does he know?_

“What the fuck, dude, are you listening to me shower,” Lance asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway with a frown.

Keith’s eyes shot back in horror, surprise evident on his face.  “What?  No?  Why would you think I was listening to you shower?”

_Because I just fucked you in my imagination and I’m freaking the fuck out about it._

“Because you’re a creep,” he deadpanned, earning a nonplused look in response.  Rolling his eyes, he sighed.  “Why are you hanging out about to knock on the door, then?  Gotta take a shit or something?”

“No,” Keith said through his clenched jaw, a slight frown creasing his brow.  “I have a tutoring session in fifteen, so I was coming to tell you to hurry it up and get dressed so we can go.”

Lance groaned.  “Who the hell tutors on a Thursday night?”

“Would you rather it was over the weekend,” Keith asked with a smirk.

“Not like I have anything better to do,” he muttered under his breath, flicking his gaze away from the offensive look of the other’s face.  That smirk was the same one he thought about just before he… Kicking off the wall, he pushed past the other forcefully.  “Well, as much as I want to stand around letting you ogle my naked chest like a Hippogriff in heat.”

“In your dreams,” Keith snarled behind him, tone dripping with venom.

Thinking the password at his door, the lock clicked, allowing him to push it open and step inside.  Pivoting back around to smile haughtily at the mixture of horror and disgust on Mullet’s face, he pushed down the little voice inside of him that reminded him of what he’d just done.  “You wish,” he purred, then slammed the door so hard it shook the wall.

_Fuck._

* * *

 

October was there in the blink of an eye, bringing with it the chill winds that had students huddling closer together in the hallways between classes, or else casting warming charms over themselves to keep it from sinking down into their bones.

In a normal year, Lance would be using the nip to snuggle up to some girl for the evening, enjoying the soft curves and plush lips in the comfort of the Gryffindor common room.  As it stood now, Keith was the biggest cock-block in the history of cock-blockers, not to mention the fact he and his aforementioned cock were still at odds even two weeks after the moment he prefers to refer to as ‘a complete lapse in sanity.’

Keith wasn’t even all that good looking, with his stupid mullet and pretty eyes and perfect skin.  Even if Lance _could_ admit that those things made the loser decent to look at, it was only because those were also _feminine_ qualities, which just went to show how out of sorts he’d been without a proper fuck in weeks and weeks and _weeks._

The small curve of Keith’s tiny waist, the confusing length of his hair, those full lips that pouted outward when he was mad.  All of these things were frying Lance’s poor, helpless brain into thinking Keith was synonymous with female.  Which made perfect sense considering he wasn’t picky when it came to _who_ he fucked, so long as there was fucking to be had. 

No female was off-limits, save for Pidge, who already came across as a boy in his brain due to her pixie cut and tomboy tendencies.  Even then, if he didn’t think of her as family, her attitude wasn’t boyish enough to keep him from doing something if she’d reciprocate.  That was just the kind of easy guy he was.

All of that, paired with the fact their uniforms and robes were almost unisex, unless you counted skirts for girls and trousers for boys, and it was no wonder his inability to pay attention to Keith’s physical appearance long enough to recognize him as strictly male had resulted in his mind being confused.  In the heat of the moment, he would fuck most things with a good pair of knockers.  Shit, he’d fucked a few without anything there; out of sheer desperation, of course.

It all boiled down to two truths.  Lance liked sex, and Lance liked pretty people.  He was sex-starved thanks to McGonagall, and Keith wasn’t the worst looking human he’d seen, bordering on tolerable to stare at.  That didn’t mean Lance _actually_ wanted to fuck him.  As if he could ever enjoy fucking a dude…

Eyes flicked around the library as a sigh escaped his lips.  For the last three Thursdays in a row, Keith had a tutoring session with a decently cute, shy little Hufflepuff girl in their year.  A fact that would have had him busting out all of his best moves in order to woo her had she not automatically leveled a look at him like he was something abhorrent before turning her big, doe, grey eyes at Keith like he was a god of some sort.

Their mutual closed-off demeanors and general disregard for his presence meant Lance was forced along with nothing to do but actually buckle down and study something, and it made him very cross, for more reasons than he’d like to admit. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t _love_ going over the same shit again and again, it just wasn’t all that necessary.  Lance was a natural at Defense, Potions were hard to study outside of the classroom, Charms were a cinch and only required minor recap to write essays, Transfiguration only posed an occasional threat inside the classroom, and Herbology was… well, it was knowing about plants.  Easy stuff.

Which made the fact he was stuck with nothing else to do to pass the time but glare sourly and revise for classes completely mind-numbing and more than a bit aggravating.

It wouldn’t have been so horrible if the tutoring session was over something he _knew_ _and enjoyed_.  It might have even been a little bit fun to help out someone in need, and do it better than Keith could ever hope to in the process.  Luck wasn’t on his side, it would seem, much the way it hadn’t been the whole blasted year.

Instead, Keith was busy tutoring the girl on Astronomy and Arithmancy, two subjects the jerk wasn’t even currently _taking_ , but still managed to grasp the Seventh-year lessons like he’d already aced the class.  It was slightly infuriating, truth be told, and following along with their dull conversations gave him more of a headache than looking at his school books ever could.

So, the studying was grudgingly done with a frown on his face, the occasional bubble of laughter spilling from the girl’s lips grating steadily on his nerves.  Keith wasn’t even funny, but that didn’t stop the girl from giggling at his crappy puns and blushing whenever he bent a little too close to gaze down at the book situated in front of her, putting their faces dangerously close together.

The worst part about it was that Keith didn’t even seem to _notice_ the sexual tension floating through the air.  The girl, who he’d come to figure out was named Selene, and only because he’d heard Keith say it directly to her since the two were never formally introduced, would lay a lingering hand down on his forearm or dip her head shyly and smile sweetly, and the guy wouldn’t even bat an eyelash in response.

No coy smiles, no leaning into her, no flash of recognition whatsoever.  Even a blush would be some sign of acknowledgment; but the closest Keith ever came to blushing was when he’d glanced over and caught Lance gaping at him openly, a deep frown creasing his brow as a dusting of pink stretched across his nose and cheeks.

The most action the either of them was going to get in the foreseeable future, and the idiot wasn’t even aware of anything happening.  Which really only managed to infuriate Lance _even more_.  Why did the pompous jerk get to have all the luck?

“And if you add them together you get?”

“Twenty-three,” she asked in a hesitant voice, sparing Keith a sidelong glance.

A warm smile pulled at his lips.  “Yes, and what is two plus three?”

“So, it’s a five then?”  Her grey eyes sparkled as Keith gave an affirmative nod, squealing with delight and bouncing in her seat.

Lance wanted nothing more than to cast a muffliato, which really wouldn’t do anything for _him_ as it was meant to keep people from _listening to you_ and not from grating noises like bubbly laughter and completely obvious flirting.  Raking a hand down his face, he made a grumbling sound deep in his throat.

Keith flicked his purple gaze toward the other for a moment, narrowing his eyes in warning before he looked away, features returned to their warm, kind, _fakeness_.  “See, I knew you’d get the hang of it,” he murmured in a tone Lance had never heard spilling from his lips before, nor even knew something so _soft_ could come out of someone so horrible.  Must be part of the cunning thing.

The girl seemed to radiate with blinding light, the whole of it directed solely at Keith.  How he couldn’t see the glaringly obvious look of shy admiration plastered all over her face was beyond Lance, but Keith only returned her smile with a look of kindness one might give to a small child, not a pretty seventeen-year-old girl with long auburn hair and adorable freckles sprinkling along her button nose and pale cheeks.

 _What a waste_.

“Only because you’re such a great teacher,” she giggled, batting her eyelashes sweetly.

Lance had to resist the urge to outright gag, pulling a face instead that dripped with disgust.  It didn’t go unnoticed, Keith leveling him with a look of frosty contempt that was such a stark contrast to his previous warmth it actually gave Lance the chills.  Of course, it only added to his thought that Keith was only pretending to be a kind person.  No one could switch gears that fluidly and still be sincere.

Turning his focus back on the clearly blind and lovesick girl, Keith rubbed a sheepish hand over the back of his neck.  “Ah, well.  Can’t be a good tutor without an equally good student.  So, uh, keep up the good work?”

Closing her books, she began stuffing them back into her school bag.  “Same time next week,” she asked with a fond smile.

Keith nodded.  “And be sure to let me know how that Astronomy test goes.  I’d wish you good luck, but I know you won’t need it.”

Another obnoxious giggle bubbled up from her throat, rising to her feet and grabbing for her belongings.  “See you then,” she chirped, offering a small wave.  Sparing a glance Lance’s direction, her expression turned cold and distrustful before she turned and sauntered off.

Lance watched her retreating form for a moment, rolling his eyes when she turned the corner and was out of sight.  Flicking his gaze back to their table, he watched Keith with a calculated expression.

A sigh escaped the other’s lips when he sensed the accusing look turned his way, gathering up bits of parchment and shuffling them into a neat stack.  “What is it now, McClain,” he asked in an exasperated tone, not even bothering to glance up from his work.

“I’m just trying to figure out how the hell you do it,” Lance muttered, eyes narrowed in apprehension.

Keith did look up at that, a frown furrowing his brow.  “Do what, exactly?”

“Fool everyone with your false charm and fake smiles.”

The Slytherin blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting that answer.  “I don’t?”

Lance scoffed at that.  “That girl is clearly fooled by you, don’t even try to act like she isn’t.”

“I meant,” Keith huffed, shoving his stuff into his own bag.  “That I don’t fool people.  I’m not fake with anyone, and I have never been, unlike _some_ people.”  The pointed look he shot his way was an indication he was referring to Lance.

“You go from nice and pleasant to scowling at me in two seconds flat, I’m pretty sure that’s the epitome of being fake.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Keith released a long breath through his teeth like a hiss.  “Have you ever considered the fact that maybe I’m treating _you_ differently, that being pleasant and kind is my _default_ personality and you just happen to drag out the worst in me?”

“Not a chance,” Lance stated with a glare, crossing arms over his chest.  “You were sorted into a notoriously evil house, where their main personality trait is cunning.  Your mascot is a _snake_ , which are untrustworthy and _wicked creatures_.”

Keith rolled his eyes so hard he looked like he was having an episode of some sort.  “You’re right, I’m an evil mastermind who is going to charm my way to the top and then enslave the wizarding community with my terrible dictatorship of lies and deceit.”

“Aha, so you admit it, then,” Lance cried, standing up so fast his chair tipped over behind him with a loud thunk.  Slapping his hands onto the table, he leaned forward with a sneer.  “You can’t fool me with your fake charm, I’ve seen through you since day one.”

“I was being facetious, you idiot.  Not that you would catch the sarcasm, I’m sure most things go straight over your thick head.”  Shooting the other a withering look, Keith slung his messenger bag over his head, sliding from his seat in a fluid motion.  “It’s almost curfew, we had better get back before we earn another strike against us thanks to your hot temper.”

Without another word, Keith turned and began walking away.

Lance watched him turn the corner with a scowl on his face.

_Man, I fucking hate that guy._

* * *

 

“So, are you coming to the afterparty we’re going to be throwing on Halloween after the feast?”

Lance looked up from his piece of treacle tart to glance into his friend’s chubby and hopeful face.  Swallowing the bite currently in his mouth, he shrugged.  “I mean, I’d love to, but I’m not going to make any promises.  You know I can’t go anywhere without _the burden_ weighing me down.”

Marcus pursed his lips in thought, brow furrowing slightly.  “You can’t sneak away for one night?  It’s not like anyone attending won’t already be breaking curfew by being there.  No one has ever been caught before, even the prefects turn their head for a chance to come.”

“And risk another strike against me,” Lance asked with a snort.  “Fat chance there, buddy.  Besides, do you really think alerting the Head Boy to an illegal party going on under his nose is exactly the best idea?  He could totally snitch and drag everyone down together.”

“He hasn’t before, and he’s been a prefect for years, so he’s had to know we throw them,” Marcus mumbled, wringing his hands together angrily.

“You could always ask him to come with,” Jared suggested unhelpfully, swooping up another biscuit and taking a large bite.  “I meam, maybe he wamts to go, too.”

“Dude,” Lance scrunched up his nose in disgust.  “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Sowwy.”  Munching for a moment, he swallowed visibly.  “We don’t normally discriminate against Slytherin attending, not that any show up.”

“That’s because they throw their own parties,” Marcus seethed, stabbing his pie angrily and inspecting the bite with narrowed eyes.  “They think they’re too good for us, or that they could throw a better party.”

Lance wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders, smiling wickedly at the stout boy.  “No one throws a better party than we can, Bragge.  Don’t you worry your pretty little head, there.  That’s why our common room is always overflowing with people and we often have to send some away.”

Marcus huffed.  “Probably straight to Slytherin’s dungeons, so they think people care about them or whatever.”

“Second pick, though.  We’re still first,” Lance quipped.

Jared leaned over to get his attention, dark eyes bright.  “If Kogane came, you could, too.  And then it would only be worrying about getting caught after curfew, which no one will because we’re the best at being discrete about these things.”

“I don’t know, guys,” Lance grimaced, looking back and forth between the two of them.  “Do you really want Mullet there?”

“I don’t mind,” Jared stated with a shrug.

“No,” Marcus muttered and glared, lip turning outward in a childish pout.  “But if it’s between you not coming at all, or you having to come with that jerk in tow, I’d rather that you came.  It’s our last Halloween afterparty together.  We need to be, you know, together?”

Heaving a sigh, Lance rubbed a hand down his face.  “I suppose I could try, but I make no promises.  And if he gets everyone in trouble because he runs and gushes to McGonagall about it, it’s your guy’s fault for pushing it.  No blaming me.”

“Deal,” they chorused, excitement brimming in their eyes.

“Also, if he says yes and then we get caught out and end up with one more strike, I’m going to hex the both of you every day for an entire month.  I’m putting my neck on the line, here.  I can’t be the only one suffering consequences.”

Sharing a worried look, the two nodded.  “Deal,” they both mumbled again, though it was far more reluctant than the first time.

Lance grinned.  “Great, now to do the impossible and convince Mullet to be sociable.  Piece of cake.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slightly shorter chapter.  
> I could have extended it, but I wanted to have the next part be Keith's POV, for I hope obvious reasons.
> 
> Comments make me smile, and they keep me writing more.  
> And, if anyone wants to, you can follow me on Tumblr, I post all of my works there as well, under all of my Pseuds, not just this one.  
> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/cherrypie62666)


	7. Flash back, then forward.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fourteen-year-old Keith can't take Lance's torment.  
> Seventeen-year-old Keith might have a better handle on things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is this monster chapter. Why? Because the majority of it was a flashback and I couldn't bring myself to make it a chapter all by itself or break it all up into sections, so I said eff it all. (Eff, coming from the person who typed how many 'fuck' words into the last chapter?)  
> Sorry, but enjoy.

_Keith walked through the corridors with his head down, avoiding eye contact with everyone he passed.  At the blossoming age of fourteen, while all the other boys in his year were checking out the females in school, he couldn’t be bothered to notice them.  At all.  Ever._

_It wouldn’t have been that strange to him; at first, he’d chalked it up to having more important things on his mind than which girl was pretty enough to pursue.  After all, it was quite common for Slytherin students to be limited in their choices, seeing as how the stigma against them was still going strong; and Slytherin’s female selection was either picky, mean-spirited, or just not his type._

_That’s what he’d initially thought before he caught himself watching the curve of Bryan Kensington’s lips as he spoke with his potions partner Amelia Bell.  Before Bryan noticed him staring and gave him a dazzling smile that sent an electric shock straight to his heart.  Before a flush covered his cheeks, and he had to look away out of embarrassment, even though the logical part of him said there was no reason to_ be _embarrassed.  It was only a glance, after all.  It didn’t mean anything._

_That’s what he thought before he’d realized he could stare at a pretty girl all day long and never once see anything more than something nice to look at, but took one look at a good-looking bloke and felt his stomach begin to squirm with nerves.  It was before he’d put a name to his condition, and it wasn’t just a phase or an illness or anything else his young mind could frantically come up with.  It was permanent, and Keith was gay._

_And perhaps, it was one of the worst things to ever happen to him._

_Not only because being gay was still a huge deal in 2014 wizarding society, even if muggles had recently legalized it throughout the UK.  But because it made him even more of a target, more of an outcast, and gave idiots like Lance McClain even more reasons to torment him further.  So, he did the only thing he could do.  He suppressed it, assuring no one ever found out the truth._

_It meant he couldn’t walk the halls without feeling anxious and on edge, but the few moments of unease were far superior to the alternative, where he’d never get a moment’s reprieve from all the cruel jokes and horrible taunts._

_Keith had seen firsthand what became of gay students when they decided to be who they truly were, out in the open with their heads held high.  They were tripped, laughed at, avoided, some students even going so far as to graffiti their personal belongings with snide remarks and homophobic language.  And those were students from other houses.  He could only imagine what would happen to a queer Slytherin._

_So, he kept his head down as much as possible.  There was no telling who would notice what he was hiding, as if the words were tattooed on his forehead for anyone and everyone to see.  His impulses were difficult to rein in, his actions glaringly obvious to himself.  It was only a matter of time before someone else connected the dots._

_Already he’d found himself daydreaming about the boys in class, and was caught a couple of times staring a little too long from across the Great Hall at some poor, confused soul who probably thought his looks meant he wanted to throttle them over snogging them.  He wasn’t about to walk into something in the hallways quite publicly just because a cute boy was distracting him again by simply existing._

_The familiar sound of a high-pitched laugh shot a rush of icy coldness straight into his gut.  Keith had been on the receiving end of that laugh enough times that he could place it in his sleep.  It was unnerving, now more than ever, and he desperately wanted to avoid confrontation at all costs._

_Stopping dead in his tracks, he glanced around, looking for someplace to hide.  It wasn’t that he was_ scared _of Lance.  Avoiding him was just easier than dealing with the idiot.  Keith was a pacifist, for the most part, and Lance was one of the few people in existence that could push his buttons hard enough to make him want to punch something._

_The hallway was empty of all classrooms, not a single statue flanking the walls to rush behind and disappear.  The voices were too close to turn around and run down the corridor without being caught like a scared rabbit, and giving the idiot that sort of satisfaction just wasn’t acceptable._

_Heaving a sigh, he found himself deflating as he waited for the unavoidable._

_Lance turned the corner seconds later, attention focused solely on another Gryffindor boy he didn’t really know the name of.  They might all be in the same Divination and Potions classes, but it was hard to know just who hung around the idiot when he was doing his best to avoid so much as drawing any attention their way._

_Keith decided to take the momentary distraction as a sign and attempted to pass by without being seen, keeping his head down and shuffling by on Lance’s right.  Before he could so much as make it a step past them, a hand grabbed hold of his wrist, halting his escape._

_“Woah, where’s the fire, Mullet,” that obnoxiously cocky voice drawled, somewhat deeper than it had been the previous year, though still tinted with a youth like quality._

_The fact that Lance’s voice didn’t make him want to bash his head into a wall kind of made him want to bash his head into a wall.  Turning his head, he glanced back into startlingly blue eyes, white flecks glowing in the soft light._

_“Let go of me,” Keith growled in response, ignoring the way the other’s touch wasn’t as repugnant as it should be.  A spark of something shot down into his gut, twisting around at the closeness of their proximity._

_The Gryffindor cocked a perfectly arched eyebrow, haughty smirk slipping across his mouth.  “And what are you going to do to make me,” he purred._

_A slight blush covered Keith’s face as the sweet tone sent another rush straight through him before he yanked his arm back violently from the surprisingly strong grip.  “Oh, sod off.”_

_Lance’s eyes widened in momentary shock until a hungry look steadily began replacing it.  Stepping forward, he bent down until the two were almost equal in height, closing the distance between them fast.  “Wow, sure are feeling feisty today, aren’t we?”_

_Keith didn’t realize he was slowly retreating until his back connected with cold stone, Lance following so closely he could smell the cinnamon on his breath.  “Just go away, McClain.  Go bother someone who cares.”_

_Placing both arms up on either side of Keith’s head, Lance blocked off any hope for escape.  “Aw, and here I thought you were actually going to fight back for once.  Guess I should have known better, you’ll always be a coward.”_

_Raising his chin defiantly, Keith stared hard into the other’s crystal gaze, refusing to back down.  Even cornered like a scared animal, he wasn’t going to give anyone the pleasure of seeing him cower.  Least of all the likes of some half-witted bully with an inferiority complex.  He might not fight back, but he would never give in.  It would be a cold day in Hell before Lance McClain got the better of him._

_Lance quirked a brow in response, eyes searching Keith’s face for something unknown.  His lips pursed as the silence stretched on between them, but Keith refused to fill it out of spite, so Lance didn’t, either.  The two boys remained at an impasse, neither wanting to be the first to crack, regardless of how much time might have to pass._

_His mind wandered as he waited, wondering briefly how long it was going to take.  It was awkward, standing so close to another person, especially one he didn’t want to be around but was too stubborn to back down for out of principle and pride.  Even if it did do strange things to his insides, like simultaneously set them on fire and turn them into mush._

_Not that Lance was anything special.  At least, not from what he’d seen…_

_The last time Keith really took a moment to evaluate the person before him, he was sitting alone in a compartment of the Express, hopes and dreams so big they felt like the tiny room couldn’t contain them for long.  With nothing better to do, he swept his gaze over the other’s angry features, taking in the tiny details that were hardly noticeable from a twenty-foot distance._

_A dusting of gentle freckles spread outward from Lance’s nose, barely visible against his tawny complexion.  Keith had never noticed them there, nor the high cheekbones that offset the slender point of his jaw, nor the way his lips were delicately plump when they weren’t pulled up in a sneer or back in a smirk._

_The boy he’d once met on the train was gone, replaced with a young man who was growing into his lanky limbs and sharp features.  Broad shoulders, a narrowed waist.  He hadn’t been playing Quidditch for long, but his arms already appeared to be thick in muscle from where they sat pinning him back against the wall.  In fact, for lack of a better term, Lance was kind of… beautiful._

_Keith’s heart accelerated rapidly in his chest, tongue darting out to wet his lips nervously.  He couldn’t think that way about the other, not when the douche was a constant thorn in his freaking side.  “Are you done yet?  I know your attendance doesn’t really matter to you, but I’d like to graduate before I’m thirty.”_

_Lance looked as if he was coming out of a trance of some sort, face going slack before the usual snide expression pinched his pretty features.  “What’s the matter, Mullet?  Getting all hot and bothered?”_

_“What,” Keith asked, stupidly taking the bait.  Fingers ghosted over the slight ache in his wrist, touching it gingerly as he flicked his gaze betwixt the two Gryffindor boys with uncertainty._

_Lance’s face turned into a horrible sneer, though his blue eyes sparkled with satisfaction.  “I bet you like it, get your jollies off being cornered and backed against a wall.”_

_Keith’s blood boiled, mostly because it wasn’t exactly wrong.  He didn’t like being messed with, not in the least.  But he couldn’t deny that Lance’s proximity wasn’t doing strange things to his insides.  “Oh, piss off, tosser.  You’re the instigator, I bet you secretly get off on it._

_Lance laughed outright.  “Me?  A sodding twink?  In your dreams, queer.  I’ve shagged more girls than you can even imagine.”_

_“Sounds like denial to me,” Keith smirked, crossing arms over his chest and taking a step toward the other, effectively breaking free from his prison.  Lance’s undignified squawk of outrage was satisfaction enough._

_Pink burned the other’s cheeks.  “I don’t fancy blokes.  That’s disgusting.”_

_Keith snorted.  “Methinks thou doth protest too much.”_

_“Me-what,” Lance asked, confusion flickering through his eyes._

_The other Gryffindor boy spoke up, hiding a grin behind his hand.  “It means maybe you’re so vocally against it because it’s secretly the truth.”_

_Lance’s face rippled with emotions, finally landing on bright red rage.  “Fuck off, you manky chav,” he spat, turning on his heels and storming off the other direction._

_The fellow Gryffindor boy shot Keith an apologetic look before chasing after his friend, the sound of his bubbling laughter echoing down the halls._

* * *

 

_Lance continued to up the antagonization, pushing Keith further and further, until he finally snapped.  It was exhausting trying to be the bigger person he knew Shiro wanted him to be.  It was tiring ignoring the verbal abuse day after day, hoping it would all just go away.  Lance wasn’t the kind to back down, and Keith’s refusal to acknowledge him only seemed to spark more issues than they resolved._

_White hot anger bubbled inside of him, coiling tightly around his chest, begging for release.  He refused to be backed into a metaphorical corner with nowhere to go, refused to allow the satisfaction that he was better in every way to continue quelling the itch that was many years due for a good scratch.  It only got worse as the days passed, and he was going out of his mind attempting to hold back the dam of repression he’d acquired after each and every snide remark._

_On a cold day in November, Keith finally gave Lance his just desserts._

_It was raining that morning, the pitter-patter of water falling upon the thick windows and cobbled stone walls steadily lulling him into a tranquil state of drowsiness.  His first class of the morning was History of Magic, Professor Binns’ ancient sounding drawl even harder to focus on than usual, which wasn’t saying much as most of the students normally took the time to nap instead of actively listening._

_He shared the class with the Ravenclaw students, so Katie Holt was thankfully someone he could pass notes to throughout the boring lectures; but even she was falling asleep at their desk, leaving very few options for Keith to help keep him alert than to stew on his annoyance for a certain blue-eyed Gryffindor idiot.  It helped, in the sense that by the end of it, he was positively seething._

_Never once, in four whole years, had Keith instigated a fight between the two of them.  Never once did he seek the other out to make his life miserable the way Lance was determined to do with him.  And while he could admit that it was his goal to prove himself the better student, he never did more than study hard to reach it, letting his marks show more than biting words ever could._

_Sure, he’d defended himself on occasion from a nasty hex sent his way, turning it on the sender and laughing when the idiot sprouted a pair of rabbit ears or had to walk around with weeping boils all over his face.  But that wasn’t the same as going out of your way to cause harm, the way Lance had done in the past._

_As he walked up the staircase to reach his Muggle studies class, he caught sight of a familiar mop of brown hair, descending the stairs with a cute Hufflepuff girl at his side.  The two were engrossed in their conversation, Lance failing to notice Keith as he made his way ever closer, pointedly fixating his eyes on the jerk to seek his attention._

_High trills of bubbly laughter spilled from her lips, Lance’s smile wide and flirtatious.  It was something Keith had only ever seen at a glance, from across a crowded room or briefly like this in passing, and never directed at him.  Lance only viewed him with sneers of contempt and loathing in his gaze._

_The thought alone made Keith see crimson, fingers curling so hard they left little crescent shapes in the skin of his palms.  Two steps left, and then they would pass one another without acknowledgment, which was normally what he’d prefer to happen, but at the moment, arguably made him far angrier than it should have._

_Sticking out his leg, he watched in slow motion as Lance flew forward, tumbling down the staircase end over end as little cries of pain and surprise trickled out of him.  Students gasped, the Hufflepuff girl covering her mouth in shock as her eyes blew wide in terror, a strange choked noise filling the air._

_Lance finally made it to the bottom, his crumpled form lying motionless amidst a sea of startled students, arm twisted grotesquely at his side in a way limbs should never twist naturally._

_Giddiness tickled Keith’s throat, peals of laughter suddenly ripping from him.  People backed away in confusion, eyeing him warily as he clutched his stomach from how hard it shook with glee.  Wiping a tear of mirth from his eye, he finally rose up, cocking a brow at the scene below him._

_“How unfortunate,” he drawled, spinning on his heels and sauntering the rest of the way to class, satisfaction coursing like liquid fire in his veins._

* * *

 

_Word traveled fast throughout the school, so it wasn’t long until the majority of whispers were pointed his way.  Keith ignored them, both those of awkward accusation and blaring rage from the Gryffindor students, and those of proud glee and satisfied enjoyment from the Slytherin in his classes._

_The one person he couldn’t avoid forever, perhaps the worst of the bunch, was the Head Boy of that year, his very own brother.  The sound of a throat clearing behind him was enough to strike fear into his heart, though he turned to face his punishment with a quiet quirk of the brow._

_McGonagall had already given him a month of detentions, refraining from stripping his prefect title due to his normally squeaky-clean slate.  Her disappointment in him was nothing compared to the way Shiro stood before him in the Grand Hall, arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight as he waited for Keith to follow him to a more secluded spot._

_Heaving a sigh, he did just that, thankful their confrontation was going to be far enough away from prying eyes that he wouldn’t need to worry about keeping up his blasé demeanor._

_Shiro led him into an empty classroom, closing the door behind them with a soft click.  In his nervous state, it sounded an awful lot like a gavel determining his guilt before he so much as got the chance to defend himself._

_“Well,” is all he said, crossing arms back over his broad chest and eyeing his brother like a speck of dirt on his otherwise pristine white cup._

_Keith swallowed against the lump clogging his throat.  “You know he’s had it out for me for_ years _, Shiro.  Am I just supposed to take it sitting down for the rest of my life?”_

_Swiping a hand through his dark hair, Shiro seemed to deflate.  “I expected better than this, Keith,” he mumbled, and it was somehow worse than any amount of yelling could ever have been.  Dark eyes assessed him sadly, skipping over Keith’s features like he was looking at a stranger._

_His heart clenched painfully, hands curling up at his sides.  “No one did anything, and he never got the punishment he deserved.  What, being a Slytherin automatically means the Gryffindor picking on you every single day won’t be reprimanded effectively?  Do I deserve it, just because I was sorted differently?  That’s bullshit.  If no one else will stand up for me, then I’ll do it myself.”_

_“He didn’t even do anything to you, Keith.  There were witnesses, more than just a few biased Gryffindor students.  You almost_ killed _someone.  If you think that’s a justifiable punishment for a little taunting, you’re sadly mistaken.”_

 _“It wasn’t_ just _a little taunting,” Keith spat, feeling the same uncontrolled rage boiling inside of him.  Years of torment, bumps and bruises he never told a soul about because he was too damn stubborn to give Lance the satisfaction of being a snitch on top of everything.  Every last snide remark and glowering stare flashed before his eyes, dragging him down into a dark and frightening place.  “He can trip me or slam me into a wall, but I do the same and I’m the bad guy?”_

_Shiro gave him a withering look.  “I’m not even going to argue with you the differences here, Keith.  If you can’t see them, you never will.  And how many times have I told you to come to me or McGonagall if Lance gets out of hand?  You had options, you always have.”_

_Keith had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes.  Instead, he settled on an incredulous snort.  “Right, because running to my brother for help really stops bullying.  You know how horrible people like that are, Shiro.  You know it only makes it worse when you show weakness to people like him.  I refuse to.”_

_“This is not the same as standing up for yourself, and you know it.  If Lance hurt you like this, I wouldn’t rest until he was expelled from this school.  So, what should I think when it’s my own brother on the bullying end of things?  Violence?  Is that how you’re going to solve your problems now?  I have to say, I’m disappointed.  I thought you were better than that.”_

_“I,” he winced, feeling the entirety of his argument shriveling up under Shiro’s icy stare.  He wanted to defend himself, wanted to justify something that he knew deep down didn’t warrant justification.  No amount of anger was a good enough reason.  Fighting fire with fire only left everyone feeling the burn.  With a defeated groan, he conceded.  “I’m sorry.”_

_Shiro crossed his arms back over his chest.  “I’m not the person who needs to hear your apology.  He’s currently in the infirmary, waiting for his arm bone to slowly regrow itself.  And you’re lucky that is the only bone he broke.  The concussion was also mild, so there won’t be any lasting damage.”_

_Keith wanted to make a snippy retort, but his guilt got the better of him.  “I’ll go tomorrow, after breakfast.”_

_“You’ll go now, and you’ll accept the fact you’re missing dessert to do it.  Come on, I’ll walk you there.”_

_After he’d recovered, Lance’s retaliation was far less daunting than Keith expected it to be.  Walking around the castle with purple hair for a few weeks was nothing compared to some of the things Lance had done to him, and he wasn’t sure if it was the tumble, but the rest of the year was more or less quiet for the two of them.  Part of him wondered if Shiro’s presence had anything to do with it.  Part of him hoped things were changing for the better._

_Like a moth to a flame, Lance was back in full swing the following year, only Keith retaliated with his fist from time to time to keep the idiot firmly in place.  While their squabbles lessened in occurrence, they escalated to the point of constant reprimanding, neither getting away without a stern talk from the Headmistress and a shared detention that cooled their tempers, at least for a little._

_Keith never let things get too out of hand so as to warrant a letter home, and thankfully, his brother was far too busy working his Ministry job to ever ask how Lance was treating him.  In the end, he was afraid of letting the other down, even if violence was sometimes the best way to take his anger out on the person who deserved all of it and then some._

* * *

 

Keith swore he could feel the eyes boring into the side of his skull, leaving a permanent mark that would probably say something obnoxious or redundant, much like the person who was doing the staring.  Heaving a sigh, he looked up from his textbook, leveling the idiot with a sour expression.

“What is it now, McClain,” he asked, tone dripping with barely contained annoyance.  It had been in both of their best interest to refrain from being nasty to one another outside of their dorm, but even Keith could only have so much patience when it came to _Lance_ and his aggravating ways _._

Blinking rapidly, a sheepish look came over the other’s features; one that may very well have pinked those tawny cheeks, giving him a gentle glow.  It wasn’t fair in the slightest, someone looking so endearing while also being such a fucking asshat.  Keith refused to let his frustration manifest as an audible growl.

“Oh, sorry.  I was kind of spacing out thinking about stuff.”  Lance chuckled awkwardly, swiping a hand through his short, thick locks.  “But, uh, since you’ve brought it up, I have been meaning to ask you something for a while now.”

Surprise killed whatever negative feelings Keith was in the process of stewing on, eyebrows shooting up on his forehead in what was probably a comical fashion.  “If this is about my schedule again, the answer is still a resounding no.  I’m not as flexible as you are, and I’m sorry if it’s not ideal, but-“

Lance rolled his eyes, though it appeared to be less hostile than it normally was.  “No, Mullet, I’ve given up on thinking you have the capacity for human sympathy.”  Keith opened his mouth to argue, but Lance stopped him with a flippant hand wave.  “It’s more a truce, of sorts, but it involves your cooperation.  It’ll benefit us both, in the end, so I think you’ll realize that agreeing now is really just saving us both a headache.”

The Gryffindor gave him an expectant look when a beat of silence passed between them.  “Way to be vague,” Keith drawled, turning the page in his Transfiguration book and resuming his quick sweep of the text.  “You’re quite possibly mad if you think I’ll agree to anything without knowing any of the details.  It’s probably easier to just get to the no part, don’t you think?”

A strange sound had him looking up into hard blue eyes, Lance’s jaw clenched in what appeared to be stubbornness, though it was hard to tell.  The poor guy looked as if he was about to swallow a bowl of live slugs, which probably wasn’t far from the truth, in his own mind.  Merlin knows he felt much the same whenever he had to cooperate with the jerk.

Keith smiled despite the tense atmosphere, folding his hands together and placing them beneath his chin.  “Oh, wow.  This must be really important to you if you’re considering groveling for it.  Well, go on, then.  Ask away.”

Lance’s lip curled in a sneer.  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re pure fucking evil?”

“All the time,” Keith deadpanned, enjoying the way the other’s eye actually twitched in response.  “But that’s only this one asshole whose opinion isn’t really valid because he’s a stupid git.”

“You literally tripped me down a flight of stairs.”  Keith continued to give him an unimpressed look.  “I could have _died_ if those stairs were revolving at that time.  We were on the third floor!”

“How unfortunate,” he drawled, the words achingly familiar on his tongue.

The color that rose to Lance’s cheeks could only be described as fiery red.  “And yet you don’t see how you could possibly be a vile, evil little-“

“I seem to recall _someone_ tormenting me for years on end without provocation.”  Keith’s tone was icy cold, stopping Lance midsentence.  “Pushing me, day after day, itching for a fight.”

Lance scowled.  “I hardly see how that’s relevant to the fact that-“

“What the hell did you expect, Lance?”  The name left his lips and both boys froze in their seats, eyes wide in shock.  It had been a _thing_ that neither acknowledged the other on a first name basis.  Somehow, it seemed derogatory, even though the usage of surnames was usually the exact opposite.  Swallowing hard, Keith pushed on.  “And anyway, we’re veering off topic.  Just ask me already, it’s almost time for class.”

The other seemed to mull something over before a look of reluctant acceptance crossed his face.  “Gryffindor always throws the Halloween afterparty in the Commons, and I want to go.  You don’t have to, but I want to, and so the invitation is extended to you, as well.  Take it or leave it, I just think it’s smarter to stick together so we’re at least adhering to _some_ of the rules.”

The surprise was back, though for entirely different reasons.  “You want me to go to a party.  With you?”

Lance suddenly looked like he sucked on the extracted essence of one hundred lemons.  “As much as it pains me, the pros outweigh the cons here, so yes.  We don’t even have to hang out while we’re there, you can do whatever you please.  I just think it’s safer if anyone should catch us out after curfew to pretend we didn’t know any better.”

“I’m not really hearing how this benefits me,” Keith muttered, chastising himself for allowing himself to believe things were changing.  Of course Lance was being entirely selfish.  He probably wouldn’t mention anything if having Keith along didn’t potentially save his ass from further issue.  Something hard and cold tightened around his insides at the thought.

“Being invited to a Gryffindor party isn’t benefitting to you,” Lance asked, voice high and incredulous.  Somehow, it only managed to piss Keith off even further.

Schooling his emotions, he fought back all inklings of disappointment, changing them instead into haughty contempt.  “No, it isn’t.  Unlike you, I don’t allow social status to sway my decisions.  And it’s not like this is the first one I’ve turned down, or have you forgotten that my _brother_ was also Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team _as well as_ Head Boy?  Even years after he left his admirers tried to invite me, and I still said no.  I’m not interested in frivolity.  Go by yourself.”

Lance made a sound like a backfiring spell.  “And risk what could happen if we’re not glued at the hip?  No thanks, I’d rather not take the fall alone.”

Keith quirked an eyebrow in response.  “We’d both take the fall, or did you forget that that’s why we _have_ to be attached at the hip.”

The Gryffindor gave another flippant little wave.  “Yeah, right.  You’d probably run straight to McGonagall and convince her that I’m solely to blame, get me kicked out and ruin my chances of becoming an Auror while simultaneously bringing down the entirety of Gryffindor house in one fell swoop.”

Try as he might, Keith couldn’t contain his amusement.  The corners of his mouth twitched in the semblance of a smile, curling his hands back up and placing them underneath his chin.  “Wow, that’s some real determination, right there.  I must be a real diabolical asshole to come up with something so adherently _Slytherin_.”

Lance looked like he was going to agree until his eyes narrowed apprehensively.  “Are you trying to say that I’m the evil one here?  Because you are sorely mistaken.”

Keith shrugged noncommittally.  “For someone so convinced that I’m some evil mastermind, you sure do come up with some interestingly fucked up plans.  I’m just saying if the shoe fits.”

“Oh, so you never thought of trying to get out of the punishment while simultaneously getting rid of me in the process?”

“Actually,” Keith mumbled, feeling his face warm up.  “It never crossed my mind.  The punishment sucks, sure, but I’m just focusing on not getting myself expelled due to petty squabbling.  I’d rather just deal with the consequences of my actions than risk fucking myself harder trying to worm my way out of it.”

Lance snorted abruptly, wiping a fake tear from the corner of his eye.  “Had anyone with an actual soul said that, I would have believed it.  But this is you we’re talking about, so I’ll just take my chances and err on the side of caution.”

“Whatever, McClain.  I’m still not going to your stupid party.”

“Fine,” Lance huffed, picking up his Charms book and effectively ending their conversation.

Keith felt a slight pang of guilt but quashed it as quickly as it arose.  This was Lance, after all.  Why should he feel sympathy toward someone so obnoxious?

* * *

 

If that had been the end of things he might have felt bad about everything at a later date.  But this _was_ Lance, and the asshole was nothing if not a complete fuckwad the majority of the time they were stuck with one another.  To top things off he had the personality of a petulant child, which meant Keith was simultaneously bombarded with pleas on one end, and then hexed out of spite on the other.

The entire month of October stretched on in a torturously slow fashion, each day bringing with it a new request that usually ended in Keith hiding away from Lance’s wrath inside the safety of his room, or else vomiting up slugs (why did he have to think of that image beforehand?  It’s like just thinking it brought it to fruition, and not in a pleasant way) whenever the jinx didn’t accidentally backfire.  It was tiresome, and part of him wanted to concede and acquiesce. 

A larger part was stubborn, which was probably a lot more trouble than it was actually worth.  Keith would be damned if he was going to be the one to crack first.  It was perhaps the best choice of action, in the end, when the day before Halloween Lance had finally had enough, banging on the door and looking down at him with pleading eyes and an out-turned lip.

“Alright, if you go, I’ll do anything you want of me.  Within reason, but I’m desperate here.”

It was seven thirty on a Friday morning, which meant he was not only exhausted from the previous week of dealing with the prat, but also the entirety of the month.  Lance had figured out how to jinx his alarm clock to go off every two hours, without fail, and Keith was about ready to scream due to the lack of adequate sleep.  Something told him a sibling had created the horrible spell, and no amount of research was helping him figure out how to undo it, so the promise of sleep truly was a siren’s song.

“Anything,” he yawned, slouching against the door jam in the bathroom.  Clearly, Lance didn’t care that he’d barely opened his eyes long enough to take a piss, though he supposed desperate times called for desperate measures.

Blue eyes seemed to grow hesitant.  “I said within reason.  Like, doing your homework for an entire month.  Or leave you alone and not hexing the daylights out of you.  For, I don’t know, also a month.  Keep in mind that I’ve gone easy on you thus far, and I can and probably will make your life worse if you deny me this.”

Keith smiled despite, or perhaps because of, his groggy state.  “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on the homework thing.  I am top of the class, your help would only lower my grade.”

Lance had the foresight to withhold his scoff, though his suddenly sour expression was enough to show he wanted to protest loudly.  “Tied, we are tied in many subjects.  And I don’t study nearly as often as you do, so who is the real winner here?”

Waving a flippant hand, Keith stumbled out of the doorway and headed for the couch.  This conversation could last a while, and he wasn’t about to have it falling asleep standing up.  It was definitely the correct choice, his muscles immediately thanking him upon sitting down.  “Even if you would raise my grade, refusal to learn the content doesn’t help me in the least.  I need the information for a reason, otherwise, I wouldn’t have chosen the career path.”

This time, Lance couldn’t contain his snarky amusement.  “Well, aren’t you just the goody two shoes of the year?  Fine, what about not hexing you for a solid month?”

“As promising as that sounds, you’ve really helped keep me on my toes.  It sounds counterproductive, but how else am I ever going to remain vigilant?”

“What _do_ you want, then,” Lance huffed, plopping down on the couch across from him and folding his arms across his chest.

Keith sank back into the cushions with a chuckle, fighting hard to keep his eyes open and attention focused.  “Aside from your removal of my sleep disturbing alarm clock, I need a slightly clearer mind to think up something fitting for having to spend an entire evening with your lot trapped inside of Gryffindor tower.”

Lance made a thoroughly pleasing sound, part offense, and part disbelief.  “You used to _want_ to be a Gryffindor,” he pointed out, voice a few octaves higher than usual.

Snickering, Keith attempted and failed to sit upright, resolving to slump himself against the couch’s armrest instead.  “That was before I realized they’d let _anyone_ be Gryffindor.  Ask the hat and ye shall receive, ay?  I’m far more suited for something… a little more elite.”

He could tell by the look Lance was giving him that he’d hit a sore spot.  Perhaps it was the lack of quality sleep for weeks or the annoyance of having to deal with the idiot’s mood swings when he refused to give into childish tantrums, but in that moment, it was completely worth all of it and then some.  The smile that curled his lips hadn’t manifested since the last time he’d punched Lance square in the mouth and felt the satisfaction of a few broken bones, regardless of the fact he had to let them heal the muggle way.

“I’m so sure.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone get sorted to the Darkside as quickly as you were, Mullet.  You can try to fool the entire school with your innocent act, but you’ll never trick the sorting hat into believing you’re something that you clearly aren’t.”

Keith shrugged.  “I told the hat I wanted Slytherin.”

“Why would you tell it you wanted that,” Lance asked, sounding skeptical at best.  It didn’t matter if he didn’t believe.  In the end, it was the truth.

Schooling his features into his best withering look, Keith dropped his voice to an icy level.  “Because, between dealing with you nightly for seven years of my life or going against my childhood dreams and choosing a house notoriously evil in nature, I’d choose Slytherin a thousand times over.”

The shock was evident on Lance’s face and Keith wanted to revel in that atmosphere for an eternity and more.  If he could snap a photo to sit by his bedside, playing that exact moment of realization over and over again, he’d do it.  In a heartbeat.  As it stood, he’d just have to ingrain it to memory, hopefully pushing out other, less satisfying images that had recently taken up residence, much to his chagrin.

Clamping his mouth shut tight, Lance flicked his gaze away.  “I’m going to go shower,” he mumbled, rising from his seat and swiftly making his exit.

Before he could close the bathroom door entirely, Keith called out to him in a modicum of a truce.  “I’ll go tomorrow, but I expect something equally horrendous from you as payment.  I can’t think of anything at the moment, but when I do, just remember that you owe me big time.  And take that jinx off my clock, too.”

Lance gave an imperceptibly slight nod, eyes still focused toward the floor.  “Alright.”  With that, the door closed behind him with a soft click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be EVEN longer, but then a wise person said I shouldn't pass up that gloriously evil ending. So I listened because it probably would have been like 3,000 more words, and I just can't do that to myself.  
> Plus I really also wanted a Lance POV to happen, though I really want a Keith POV for the next part, too.  
> Solution? It might be a dual POV chapter to appease the Hogwarts gods.  
> HOORAY!
> 
> Did I mention this fic is probably a behemoth? So much to write, and my wordiness only makes it worse.
> 
> Tumblr @Cherrypie62666


	8. A Halloween Celebration not soon to be forgotten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could this chapter have been split into two? Yes.  
> But to thank everyone for bearing with me and being oh so lovely, I decided to make it a single one. ^^  
> Appeasing the fanfic gods, or whatever!  
> Double POV, clearly marked.

**Lance**

Lance paced back and forth beneath the small staircase, azure eyes flicking up to the mahogany wood of Keith’s door every few seconds as he waited for his pain in the ass roommate to finally be ready to leave.  Showered, shaved, and dressed up in a crisp, clean uniform, he was feeling particularly cheerful the whole of the afternoon.  Until, that is, a certain Slytherin decided dragging his feet was the appropriate method of preparing for the evening.

The Gryffindor Halloween party wouldn’t be in full swing until well after midnight, but as Captain of the Quidditch team, and perhaps one of the most popular seventh-year students, it was his duty to assure everything went as perfectly and smoothly as possible.  He’d already promised his friends earlier to arriving no later than eleven, and as it stood, time was willing away unnecessarily.  It was beginning to piss him off.

The clock in the kitchen read ten seventeen, which meant even the prefects out patrolling the halls would be wrapping things up shortly and returning to their respective dorms for the evening, or else joining the rest of them for a good time.  Those professors who weren’t already happily in their own rooms for the night were either getting sloshed in Hogsmeade or off someplace else for the remainder of the holiday, and wouldn’t be back until the wee hours of dawn.

And yet here he was, wasting precious time alone when he could be flirting with women or acquiring a delicious buzz.  Heaving an irritated sigh, he marched up the little steps once more, knocking loudly with a tightly clenched fist.

“Are you ready yet?  Sheesh, you’re even worse than I am.  How long does it take to change your-“

The door opened before he could finish his angry tirade, a set of fiery purple eyes glowering at him from the place a few short inches below his own.  The scent of something crisp and refreshing, with just a hint of spicy sweetness, wafted past as Lance took a step back, slightly uneasy about the close proximity of their persons.

Mouth pressed into a thin line, brow furrowed, Keith leveled him with a wholly unimpressed look.  “Can you refrain from your incessant prattling on every three minutes, or is it impossible for you to go that long without being completely obnoxious?”

Smirking beside himself, his shoulder lifted in a half-hearted shrug.  “I mean, it isn’t impossible.  But you’re clearly taking your sweet time intentionally, and if I have to be annoyed, I might as well return the favor.”

Keith hissed a breath through clenched teeth.  “I can still back out of this, you know.  I am the one doing you the favor here.”  The look on his face alone was enough to prove the threat totally empty, so Lance refrained from mentioning their little agreed upon deal from the previous morning. 

Ever since the Slytherin had let it slip that he’d chosen his house solely to avoid dealing with Lance, the two of them were awkwardly quiet around one another, having spoken less than a small handful of words in almost forty hours.  Even just remembering that satisfied icy stare made Lance want to turn and leave, though he stubbornly refused to back down now.

“Yeah, yeah.  Just hurry it up, Mullet, I have things I need to take care of this century,” he replied in a bored voice, waving a flippant hand in the other’s face before turning on his heel and casually strolling away.

The echo of the door closing behind him followed him back down the small staircase as he headed for the couch, plopping down with a barely audible sigh.  They hadn’t even left yet and already he could tell it was going to end up being a long night.  Nothing a few shots of fire whiskey wouldn’t solve if he ever got the chance to actually attend the damn party.

It felt like hours later, though in truth was probably only a few minutes, when the door opened with a gentle creak and the sound of shuffling feet pierced the silence somewhere to his right.  Sparing a fleeting glance, he rose from the couch with languid movements, stretching arms high above his head and shivering when his spine popped in response.

“Well, ready then,” he asked lightly, not even bothering to make eye contact with the Head Boy.

Keith hummed low in agreement, the quiet clicking of footsteps edging closer until they stopped short an arm’s length away.  “As I’ll ever be,” he muttered disdainfully.  After a beat of awkward silence, he cleared his throat, voice tight and laced with some strange emotion.  “And you swear we won’t have to be out half the night?  I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get even a little bit of sleep in before-“

“Don’t worry, Mullet, I’ll make sure you’re back here before the magic wears off and you turn back into a pumpkin,” Lance quipped, making a beeline for the door.

“You mean a lowly servant,” Keith asked from somewhere behind him, tone flat and unamused.

Casting a wicked grin over his shoulder, he quirked a brow at the Slytherin.  “So you admit your inferiority, then?”

Keith scowled in response to the jab.  “I was just correcting your mistake.  Cinderella wasn’t a pumpkin, her coach was.”

“Who said I was comparing you to her?  Hate to break it to you, but you won’t be meeting your prince at the ball tonight.  If anything, you’re like one of the ugly stepsisters who gets her eyes pecked out by the crows in the end.”

Keith muttered something under his breath that Lance didn’t quite catch before the two of them slipped into the hallway and quietly made their way toward Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

 “Alright,” he muttered, holding out an arm and stopping the other just short of reaching the picture of the Fat Lady that guarded the entrance to the Commons.  The majority of their walk had been spent in silence, ears perked up to listen for signs of Filch or his pesky cat, so they didn’t have time to rehash the details before entering.  “What’s the number one rule of the night?”

Keith gave him a blank sort of look, purple eyes blinking slowly like he didn’t quite understand the question.  After a beat of silence, he shrugged.  “Don’t make you look like any more of an ass than you’ll already make yourself look?”

Lance’s lip curled upward in a sneer.  “You think you’re just so funny, huh?”

“I try,” the other deadpanned in response.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, he huffed.  “The number one rule is don’t bother me.  I’ll make sure we’re out by four at the latest, so don’t interrupt me no matter how bored you become.  And don’t embarrass yourself, for your own sake, Mullet.  You’re not allowed to leave no matter what until I’m there to accompany you, or else the whole deal is void and I put that spell back on your alarm clock, capisce?”

“Duly noted.”

“While we’re on the subject, don’t bother any of my housemates,” he warned, eyes narrowed in mistrust.

Keith quirked a brow.  “Explain ‘bother,’ because it sounds one hell of a lot like ‘talk to.’”

Lance smiled smugly in response.  “Well, look at that.  So you can pick up on subtlety.  You’re not a complete lost cause after all.” 

“Perhaps it’ll be quicker if you just inform me what I  _can_  do, that way you can stop talking and leave me alone,” Keith grumbled as he flicked his gaze away, crossing arms over his chest.

Tilting his head to the side, Lance hummed in amusement.  “Well, you  _can_  talk to whoever is willing to speak with you first.  You  _can_  stand in some corner somewhere and wait for the hours to pass quietly and without complaint.  You  _can_  enjoy the refreshments if you so choose, though something tells me you’re not exactly the illegal underage drinking type.  You  _can_ -“

“Alright, I get the picture.  Are you finished, or would you rather spend your precious few hours blathering on some more?”  Sparing a glance at his naked wrist like he was checking the time, Keith clicked his tongue thoughtfully.  “By my count, you have just five and a half hours left at most.”

Spinning on his heels, Lance continued toward the hidden door.  “Party time,” he murmured to the Lady, watching as the portrait swung open in response.  It was the usual Halloween password normally placed every year to allow all houses access without having to think up something new the next morning while the majority of them nursed their hangovers.

Inside, the room had been transformed into a glittering dungeon, hundreds of floating candles casting the space in a soft, flickering orange glow.  The fire that usually crackled in the far side of the room had been extinguished for the evening, the empty pit cleared of debris and packed with large kegs of butterbeer and ice buckets stuffed full of fire whiskey.

Almost every surface imaginable was covered in cobwebs, from the corners of couches set up along one wall, to the little tables on the opposite side, pushed together for the evening to act as a buffet area for snacks.  Magicked bats flew through the room high above their heads and hung from the ceiling, beady red eyes peering down on them with curious intent.  Jack-o-lanterns with ghoulish smiles and haunting faces cackled with glee from time to time, wisps of thick white fog billowing from their glowing mouths.

Lance spared one final look at Keith, catching the way the orange light made his pale skin shine like bronze.  His violet eyes as they surveyed the room were two obsidian orbs that seemed to suck him in like black holes, pulling him down into their dark, cold depths, stealing the warmth from his very soul.  It was beautiful, in an eerie sort of way, until their gazes locked and he felt a burst of warmth flood his cheeks.

Keith quirked a brow, expression suddenly distrustful and guarded.  “Something else to say,” he asked wearily, sweeping a hand through his shaggy locks.

“Have fun, or whatever,” Lance replied in a blasé tone of voice, striding across the room toward the seventh-year boy’s dorms.

A couple of first years were setting up one of the tables as he passed, the boy sporting a cocky smile as he chatted happily with the giggling girl.  When the two caught sight of him watching, identical bright red blushes painted their entire face before the girl rushed off toward the first-year girl’s dorms with an embarrassed squeak.

“Girls, huh,” he asked the young boy with an apologetic smile.

Brown eyes regarded him for a moment before the boy returned the look with a mischievous grin.  “That’s alright.  More where that came from.”

Lance laughed beside himself.  “True.  You have a good rest of your night… er…”

“James,” the boy said with a crooked smile before waltzing toward his own dormitory.

Lance watched him go for a moment, an inkling of something familiar nagging at his brain.  Deciding it was nothing more than a strange case of déjà vu, he climbed the stairs and knocked loudly on the well-worn door.

“Blasted no good house elves, messing up my- Lance!” The pudgy face beamed up at him happily as the door swung open.  Behind Marcus’ disheveled appearance Jared was prim and proper, sitting atop his neatly made bed, a bored look on his dark face.  “So, the little weasel actually upheld his end of things.  I’m surprised, I expected you to be late.”

“Lance McClain always keeps his word,” he replied smugly, stepping past the shorter boy and entering the all too familiar room.  Everything was different yet the same, a wave of nostalgia hitting him hard in the stomach, causing him to suck in a shaky breath.  Even the bed he’d left behind sat there invitingly, the sheets still crisp and welcoming after a long, hard day of Quidditch practice.  “Besides,” he said as he turned back to his friend with a dazzling smile.  “I might have put that hex on his alarm clock to hasten the decision.”

Marcus snickered as the other groaned loudly.

“I hated that one,” Jared mumbled forlornly.

“You didn’t even have it cast on your clock,” Marcus huffed, leveling the other boy with a withering look.

“Yes, but who happens to sleep directly next to you?  It may have been your clock, but I suffered all the same.”  Folding arms over his chest, he muttered as an afterthought, “not that your snoring is any less of a disturbance.”

Marcus’ pudgy face turned bright red.  “Oh, and I suppose your monthly asthma attacks are better?  You’d think after all these years you’d find something to combat them.  At the very least you could cast a silencing charm so no one else has to hear you-“

“I missed this,” Lance interrupted with a wistful sigh.  “I’ll trade either of you the stuffy silence to return to late night disturbances any day.”

Both parties shot him a sheepish smile, Jared reaching under the bed before coming over with a small bottle of amber colored liquid.  “What say you to getting the festivities underway a little earlier than usual?”

Lance took the bottle eagerly and opened the lid, catching the spicy scent of cinnamon laced with the woody aroma of oak and the unmistakable odor of rubbing alcohol.  Knocking back a large mouthful, it burned as it went down like liquid fire, igniting his insides in a delicious warmth.  With a newfound smile tugging at his lips, he handed it off to the other, chuckling as the shorter boy choked and sputtered.

“So, what’s in store for us tonight?  Got anything special planned to send the night off with a bang?”

His two friends shared an amused look, Marcus stepping forward to place a hand on his shoulder.  “Well, not that you heard it from me, but a certain blonde beauty has been asking around if anyone knows whether or not you’ll be making an appearance tonight.”

“Is that so,” he purred, smiling wickedly as the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream steadily unwound the knot he didn’t realize had formed itself in his chest.  “Well, then, by all means, I shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

* * *

By the time the beautiful Gryffindor girl finally made her fashionably late appearance, Lance was already three shots of fire whiskey into the night, sipping on a sickly sweet butterbeer and chatting it up with an inebriated Ravenclaw sixth year with honey colored eyes and chin-length black hair. 

He had pretended not to notice her entrance until the familiar sensation of her body pressed itself close to his arm, enveloping it in warmth.  The sweet fragrance of jasmine trickled up to caress his nostrils at the same time her husky voice filled his ear with its beautiful melody.

“I didn’t think you’d make it,” she purred, dragging his attention fully from the other girl and down into sparkling, half-lidded eyes.  Flecks of shimmering powder dusted along her cheekbones and temples, catching the glow of orange candlelight and reflecting it back in rainbow prisms.

Smiling, Lance wrapped an arm around her tiny waist, pulling her closer until their stomachs almost touched.  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he breathed, chuckling softly as the vixen danced her way out of reach and leveled him with a sultry look.

“I was looking forward to that date of ours until somebody went and canceled on me,” she pouted, plump red lips pursed adorably.  Crossing arms over her chest, she turned her nose up toward the ceiling.  “I have half a mind to punish you.”

“You know that was out of my control,” he murmured, pulling the girl closer once more and gazing down at her with pleading eyes.  “Do you honestly think I’d cancel on  _you_  for anything less?”

“Well, I certainly hope not,” she teased, running tantalizing hands up his chest until they wrapped around his neck, stroking softly the small hairs just above his nape.  “But I do wonder just how you’re going to make it up to me.  I don’t give second chances very often, you know.  Almost never.”

The glint in her eyes was fierce and he swallowed hard, a shaky smile curling his lips.  “What do you want me to do,” he asked softly.

Tilting her head to the side, she hummed in contemplation, drawing the skin of her lip delicately between her teeth.  “Well, you can start by paying attention to me and only me for the rest of the night.  No other girls, not even your friends can take you away from me.”

“Alright,” he agreed easily, encircling arms around her slender frame.  “From now until four, I’m all yours.”

Something strange flickered across her face, brow creasing slightly as she pulled back a fraction of an inch.  “Four,” she asked quizzically, tone far sweeter than her expression should have permitted.

“Uh, yeah.  I promised my roommate I wouldn’t keep him later than that.  You know about the punishment, we’re not supposed to separate, so it was already an ordeal to get him to come along.”

“I see,” she replied, gaze flicking off across the room for a moment before returning to him with a softened look.  “So, you already had to go through so much trouble just to see me.”

“It was worth it, though,” he promised.

Running her hands down his chest, she smiled seductively as her fingers brushed delicate trails along his sides and hips.  “I guess we’ll just have to make the most of what little time we have, then,” she breathed in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

“I guess so.”

Dropping her gaze down to his waist, she dragged it back up slowly, the fan of her lashes casting haunting shadows along her cheeks.  “I’m just going to go get a drink.  Wait here for me?”

Swallowing hard, Lance couldn’t manage more than to nod in agreement.

With one last seductive curl of her lips, she sashayed away, the sweet scent of jasmine lingering in the air as her petite form disappeared into the crowd.

Jared wandered over not long after, offering up the same, now mostly empty bottle of fire whiskey with an enormous grin on his face.  “Well, you two seem to be hitting it off nicely.  Care for another shot of liquid courage?”

“No thanks, mate,” Lance said with a wistful smile.  “Nyma isn’t really drinking this year after-“

“Oh, right,” Jared laughed, tucking the bottle back into the pocket on his button up.  “Didn’t she and a few other sixth-year girls all try to go skinny dipping in the Black Lake?”

Stifling his own laughter, he nodded in agreement.  “Until the Head Girl forcibly rounded them up and detained them.  Quite a shame, too, I know a lot of blokes would have loved to catch that show.”

“If they didn’t catch the squid’s attention or hypothermia first, you mean,” Jared teased.

“Anyway, mate, I sort of promised Nyma I would be hers for the rest of the night to make up for canceling on our date, so… if you weren’t here when she got back, that would probably be for the best.”

Jared gave him an odd look, eyes flicking from him to somewhere in the distance, then back again.  “And she said she’d be coming back soon?”

Frowning, Lance nodded once more.  “After grabbing a drink, yeah.  Why?”

Rubbing a hand along the back of his neck, Jared chewed on his lower lip anxiously.  “Well, I mean, maybe she’s still on her way to get a drink and just got a little distracted along the way?”

“What do you-“ Lance began, searching the crowd behind himself for the unmistakable mop of long platinum hair.  When his eyes finally locked on, the words died in his throat, replaced instead with an angry growl.

“Maybe she’s just…” his voice trailed off as the two watched the girl laugh loudly and link her arm through the arm of the last person on Earth he would have expected her to speak with.  After a few shared words, Nyma pulled him off in the direction of the couches, a very clear indication the conversation was far from over.

“That little-“

Jared handed him back the bottle of whiskey.  “I’m pretty sure you need this a lot more than I do, mate.  Sorry.”

Without breaking eye contact, Lance gripped the bottle and chugged the remainder in one, fiery gulp.  It burned something terrible as it hit his stomach with a splash, but not even the pain steadily coursing through his veins could dampen the sudden rage he felt bubbling up in the depths of his being.

* * *

 

**Keith**

Music pulsed around Keith as he made his way further into the corner of the large room, avoiding the throng of sweaty, smelly bodies as they swayed vicariously to the beat.  It had been hours since he first stepped foot into the Gryffindor Common room, and ever since the undeniable urge to flee had been nagging away at his brain incessantly, threatening to drive him mad.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy social gatherings.  Who didn’t enjoy letting loose every once in a while and having a few laughs with some friends?  The problem was, as a Slytherin and the Head Boy to boot, he wasn’t exactly the life of the party.  Public enemy number one, to be more exact.

When he wasn’t being sneered at or eyed suspiciously, he was outright ignored by the majority of participants, who happened to also be Gryffindor house, go figure.  A couple of younger students did attempt polite small talk in the beginning of the evening, but now, with the hour drawing later, most of them were sent back to their dorms so the older students could relax.

A Hufflepuff girl named Matilda had spent a good hour or so drunkenly hanging from his arm and chatting his ear off, but her sober friend found her a little while later, and, apologizing profusely for the other’s behavior, ushered the girl off to bed.  That was perhaps the last person he’d shared more than five words with in some time, which wasn’t really an issue aside from the fact the party still managed to be in full swing and he couldn’t find an uninhabited place to save his life.

“Looking a little lost there,” a voice called from somewhere to his left.

Turning, he caught sight of sparkling lavender eyes, the thick black fan of lashes surrounding them so long and dark they had to be fake.  Full ruby lips curled upward in a dazzling smile, the milky color of her skin offset by the gentle petal flush that kissed the area across her cheeks.  On the tip of her button nose, a tiny pink heart sat, sprinkled in flecks of diamond glitter.  With the kohl black winged eye makeup and the jewel-encrusted ears she wore atop her head of long, perfectly wavy platinum hair, Keith figured she was supposed to be dressed up like a cat.

“Perhaps a little,” he admitted, glancing briefly at the maroon and gold tie hanging loosely around her neck.  The first two buttons on her blouse were open, showing off the top of her pale breasts, but he disregarded it as quickly as he noticed it.  “Mostly just wish there was a quieter area to wait in.”

“Friend not ready to leave yet,” she guessed almost accurately, tilting her head to the side and batting her long lashes playfully.  “Well, if it’s any consolation, the party can’t go on all night.  Normally it wraps up around four, which isn’t more than a couple hours away.  In the meantime, I could keep you company, if you’d like.”

The scent of her perfume tickled his nose as she took a large step closer, smiling up at him in a flirtatious manner.  Even he, with his disinterest in the fairer sex, could tell the girl was beautiful; with her gleaming purple eyes and her pouty full lips, she probably had most guys wrapped neatly around her finger.  Unfortunately for her, he wasn’t interested.

“Thanks, but you don’t have to go out of your way for me.  I’m perfectly alright waiting for my… friend until he’s ready to go if you’d rather be doing something else.”

Throwing her head back, she let out a peal of laughter so sweet it was like a Veela’s dance, no doubt entrancing most men.  “You’re Keith, right?  The Head boy?”  Without knowing what else to do, Keith gave a nod, causing another sensual smile to pull at her lips.  “I’m Nyma.  It’s nice to meet you.”

She didn’t stick out her hand, so he didn’t bother offering his in response.  “Nice to meet you, too.”

Taking another bold step forward, she linked his arm in hers, dropping her voice low until it was hardly audible over the pulsing sound of music.  “Now, what kind of party host would I be if I let our school’s Head Boy stand around bored at his first and only Gryffindor Halloween party?”

“A pretty typical one,” he mused.

Another peal of laughter ricocheted around the room, a few nearby party guests sending odd looks their direction as the girl on his arm hummed happily in amusement.  “You’re hilarious, Keith,” she purred, tugging him off toward one of the empty couches.  “But really, I don’t mind in the least.  Most of my friends are already drunk, and I don’t really partake, so it’s nice to find someone of sober mind to chat with.”

Surprise shot his eyebrows high on his forehead.  “Oh, I didn’t realize-“

“Someone who looks like me would abstain from partying just as hard as the rest of my house,” she guessed accurately with a wry smile, quirking a brow as she took a seat.  When he hesitated a moment, she patted the spot next to her.  “Really, I don’t bite.  Hard.”

With a bit of reluctance, he sat beside her, swiping a hand through his hair with a shrug.  “It’s not really that you look much like someone who parties a lot.  I guess I just figured special times call for special measures and most people choose to let loose when given the chance.”

Curling a lock of pale hair around her finger, Nyma chuckled softly.  “Yes, well, normally I would join in.  But last year I drank a little too much fire whiskey, and now just the scent of the stuff makes my stomach churn.  Hangover potions might cure a terrible headache the morning after, but they can’t take away the memories.”

“That bad, huh?”

A self-depreciating smile came over her face.  “Let’s just say, I made a few stupid decisions I’m glad weren’t able to come to fruition and leave it at that.”

* * *

Nyma chatted on about various things for some time, until the majority of partygoers were either passed out on the floor or long gone.  The few remaining stragglers were mostly Gryffindor house, though he did notice a group of Hufflepuff still happily playing a drinking game with a reluctant and tired group of Ravenclaw students.

“It’s getting pretty late,” the girl noted, rising from her place on the couch and stretching her long limbs.  “I’m pretty sure your friend is ready to go by now if he hasn’t left already.”

Keith glanced around the room at the various huddles of bodies, finally landing on the grumpy looking Gryffindor standing close enough to the door to prove his point.  “Yes, I believe he is,” he mumbled, rising to his own feet.  “Thanks for the company.”

“It was my pleasure.  See you around, Keith,” she purred into the shell of his ear, shooting him a dazzling smile and sultry wink before sashaying across the emptied room, drawing the attention of more than a couple of the lingering males along with.

Keith had to resist the urge to shudder at the girl’s failed attempt at seduction.  It wasn’t that Nyma was horrible to look at or even boring to talk to.  She was just that, a she, and if ever there was a woman to prove he had absolutely zero interest in the fairer sex, this one had done it.

Lance’s cold blue eyes bore into him from their place near the exit, hard and unforgiving as a frigid snow storm.  The line of his mouth sat perfectly straight, the usual upturned, mocking quirk of his beautiful lips showing no sign of that haughty curve.  It was as if he was void of all emotion, save for those burning irises, which sent an involuntary shiver straight down Keith’s spine. 

It was unsettling.

Swiping an awkward hand across the back of his neck, his own gaze flicked away as he approached, trailing slowly over the remnants of the party before landing somewhere slightly to the right of Lance’s head.  “Well, shall we get going, then,” he asked in a strangely shaky voice, the corners of his own mouth spasming in his uncertainty.

Lance’s jaw rippled as his teeth clenched, but he didn’t reply, just turned on his heel and flung the portrait hole open roughly with an audible gasp from the Fat Lady adorning the opposite side.  Back tense and shoulders stiff, he marched his way across the hall and disappeared quickly out of sight.

Keith shot the Lady an apologetic look as he closed the room up once more before quietly slinking off the same direction as his roommate.  Pinpricks of guilt bubbled up in his gut, even as he wasn’t quite positive as to what had happened to warrant such a chilly response.  Was it something he’d done?

The Gryffindor had said Keith wasn’t to bother him until he was ready to leave, and not wanting to be argumentative, he’d obliged.  They’d maintained their distance, as discussed, and he’d thought he kept a decent eye out for the other, though the last few hours were admittedly a little lax.  Perhaps he’d kept the guy waiting?

The quiet slap of footsteps echoed throughout the empty halls as they made their way back to the dorm, Lance’s posture noticeably taut and rippling with fury even from their distance of fifteen or so feet.  It would be comical, the way he contained his rage so silently as they went, if not for the fact that the wave of animosity was undoubtedly going to drown the two of them the moment they were safely inside.  Somehow, the threat of someone discovering their illegal stroll was less intimidating for Keith, even if only just.

Worrying a lip gently between his teeth, he reexamined the evening from a different perspective.  Lance had told him not to speak with anyone that didn’t speak with him first.  He’d done a fair job of it, only having two actual conversations amidst the smattering of polite small talk that he was forced to endure.  To the best of his knowledge, he hadn’t made a fool of himself, unless standing quietly constituted doing just that.  Maybe Lance was just pissy and drunk…

Raking a hand through his hair, he heaved a tired sigh.   _Looks like we’re in for another rough week.  Better keep my guard up._ Before he could even finish the thought in its entirety, Lance disappeared once more into the safety of their dorm, closing the door behind himself much softer than his prickly demeanor should have allowed.

It wasn’t that he was afraid to follow, but for a hesitant moment, Keith remained rooted to the spot, gazing uneasily at the grey stone wall.  Somewhere beyond that unassuming slab, horrible things undoubtedly awaited his arrival.  Were it anyone else, he’d assume they’d return to their room to seethe in private.  But this was Lance, and Lance was nothing if not completely confrontational.

The atmosphere inside was thick and tense as he gingerly poked his head around the door, hand already resting on his wand just in case the other was lying patiently in wait.  The fact that he appeared to be alone only managed to further confuse him, slipping his body through the narrow gap as his eyes critically scanned the room.

 _Would he use a spell to shapeshift?_   No, not even Lance would go to those lengths to jinx someone.  Gryffindor are rarely so cunning.

As if on cue, the moment the door latched behind him with its quiet click, Lance appeared from the kitchen with a half-empty glass in his hand, cold eyes flitting over his presence like he was a pocket of empty space before turning and sauntering up toward his bedroom.

“Lance,” Keith murmured softly, chest tight with nervous energy.  Swallowing down the strange sensation, he pushed the words out before they stuck in his throat.  “Did I… is something wrong?”

Glancing back over his shoulder, Lance shot him a withering look.  “You know, I could almost believe your sincerity if I didn’t already know you’re incapable of it.”  With a bitter laugh, he paused at the top of the steps, leaning against the handrail and offering up a humorless smirk.  “I don’t know why it never occurred to me you’d go so far or stoop so low.  Congrats, I guess you really are a flawless actor.”

The words Lance spoke were so flat and void of emotion, they almost didn’t sound like they’d come from him at all.  If not for the proof that his lips had moved in perfect time, Keith would have sworn someone else had uttered them.

“What,” he finally asked after a palpable beat, face twisting up in genuine confusion.

Lance scoffed loudly, eyes rolling as he turned to leave.  “I’m going to bed, I don’t have the patience to deal with your half-assed, pathetic attempt at feigning ignorance.”

Before the other could reach out and touch the doorknob, Keith had crossed the room, grabbing onto the hem of his trousers and halting his escape.  “Seriously, McClain.  I really don’t understand what I’ve done to offend you.  If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but I want you to know I really didn’t mean to.  Why would I bother after we’d just started-“

“Oh, and I suppose you just happened to bump into her and started chatting?”  Ripping his leg free, Lance curled his lip in a sneer.  “Nice try, but you’re completely transparent.  I saw the way you two were hanging all over one another.”

Brow furrowed, Keith narrowed his eyes in thought.  “The only girl who really acted that way the whole night was Matilda Brentworth.  I’m sorry, but it wasn’t exactly a mutual occurrence. She was drunk and-“

“Nyma, you halfwit,” Lance bellowed angrily, marching down the stairs and pointing an accusatory finger in the other’s face.  “Honestly, are you trying to piss me off?  Keep it up and I’ll hex you into next year.”

Surprise had him taking a step backward involuntarily.  “Wait, what?  Since when were we hanging all over one another?”

A ripple of negative emotions flickered in Lance’s icy eyes.  “Don’t play dumb, Head Boy, I’ve already somehow managed to think even less of you than I ever imagined was possible.  At least own up to your achievement, however fleeting it might be.”

“Achievement,” Keith parroted back, blinking rapidly to absolve his confusion.

Another humorless smile pulled the corners of the Gryffindor’s mouth.  “Why a goddess of a woman like her would ever stoop to speak with someone as low as you is beyond my comprehension, but I’m sure she’ll come to her senses soon and realize you’re just a slimy worm and a waste of time.”

Despite the sudden rush of anger that swept over him, Keith held up his hands in a placating manner.  “Woah, hold up, I think you’ve misunderstood something here.  Nyma was just keeping me company while I waited for you to be ready to leave.  There was no  _hanging_  all over, from either side. And while I admit she comes off a bit strong, I wouldn’t say it actually meant much.  Besides, I’m not interested in  _that girl_  in the slightest.”

Lance’s features softened as he blinked a few times, brow creasing slightly as the words slowly began to sink in.  In an instant the rage was back, tan skin flushing bright red across his nose and cheeks.  “What, so a lowly Gryffindor isn’t good enough for you,” he growled, taking one large step closer with a menacing aura.

“What,” Keith asked stupidly once more, feeling a little like a broken record.

“Do you think you’re better than us, that your house is above ours and she’s just some idiotic bimbo-type because she wasn’t placed in your snooty little club?”

“No, that’s not what-“ he began, trying his best to defuse the situation.  The other wouldn’t listen.

“If anything, she’s so far above you-“

“Seriously, I don’t think-“

“That you should be on cloud 9 right now, thanking Merlin she even gave you a second thought.”

Anger radiated off of Lance in dizzying waves, each threatening step closer met with an equally hesitant and reluctant step back.  Before he knew it, Keith’s back had met the wall, the fabric of his shirt now twisted up tightly in the other’s hand.  Their faces were so close he could feel the moisture on his skin with each exhale, the unmistakable scent of spicy alcohol so strong it stung his nose and made him choke.

“McClain,” he wheezed, struggling in vain to remove the ironlike grip.  For looking so lithe, the guy sure was strong, the force behind his clenched fist alone enough to push Keith’s spine uncomfortably into the cold stone.  “It’s not a Gryffindor prejudice.”

“Then what?  Not smart enough?”

“No, I don’t care about-“

“Too blonde for you?  Not attractive enough, even though she’s literally the hottest girl in school?  Don’t tell me you go for the quiet types, because there isn’t a guy in this place who wouldn’t kill to have Nyma give them one of her dazzling smiles and sultry laughs.  You’re an idiot if-“

“Lance,” he winced, pleading silently with his eyes for the other to just let the matter drop.

_Please._

Blue bore into violet unblinkingly; hard and skeptical, unwavering and fierce.  Anger still danced like flames beneath the surface of Lance’s suddenly stoic expression, ready to ignite in a blast of vehement destruction at any second.  “Why wouldn’t you be interested in a girl like that, unless it was over something pretentious and unfounded like your pathetic superiority complex?”

“I’m just not interested,” Keith admitted truthfully, drawing his gaze momentarily to the curve of lips parted softly in confusion.  “So, if you’re still angry, be angry.  But I’m not-“

“Why,” Lance spat, pushing his fist hard into the bone in Keith’s chest to cut off the remainder of his dodgy reply.

For a moment, the only sounds were the faint whisper of the clock in the kitchen as the seconds ticked on, the rush of blood flow through his veins as his heart rate kicked up speed, and the ragged intake of oxygen as the furious Gryffindor held his gaze, refusing to back down.

Sighing in defeat, Keith’s resolve finally crumbled into dust.  “I’m gay,” he breathed the words just shy of a whisper, eyes flicking down to the fingers already starting to loosen themselves slowly from his shirt.

The audible sound of Lance swallowing drew his attention back up into uncertain, cloudy pools of azure.  “Wh… what?”

Wetting his lips anxiously, he cracked a self-depreciating smile.  “Gay?  Like I don’t fancy the fairer sex in the least?  So, I apologize if you’ve gotten the wrong impression, but I’m not personally interested in her or any female in this school, for that matter.”

A spasm of emotions flickered chaotically across the other’s face as he took a small step back, arms falling uselessly to his sides.  “Oh,” was all Lance finally managed to choke out before turning around and quietly marching his way up the stairs and into his room.

Sinking down the length of the wall, Keith bit his lip hard to quell the sudden overwhelming emotions threatening to drown him in self-loathing; all the while the unmistakable look of disgust he’d noticed just seconds before played itself on an endless loop behind his itchy, watering eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I could have done SO MUCH more with that party. I chose not to.  
> Not even because it would have turned this nearly 7000-word chapter into a 10,000-word one, but because there is already so much drama and content coming that skimping here and there really isn't a big deal to me.
> 
> Apologies for the long and tiresome wait! I have no excuse for it and make no promises it will not happen again.  
> My best advice is to get on my ass if I start slacking, it really does help a whole bunch to read comments and see that people are interested and excited for more. ^^  
> No amount of pushing is ever going to make me upset, so go ahead and drive me crazy. Lord knows I need it to keep my ass in shape.
> 
> Sorry if anything is weird or whatever, I am currently jacked up on sinus medicine and not on my A game. I tried my best. ^^
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for sticking with me! I appreciate the love and will give back in more lengthy chapters and delicious moments.


	9. A Simple Turning Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Please don't even look at me right now, I feel so awful for this horrible wait that I'm ready to crawl into a hole and disappear forever. And ever. And possibly ever.  
> Okay, I'll finish the fic, first.

_“So, if you’re still angry, be angry.  But I’m not-“_

_“Why,” he spat, cutting off the dodgy reply with a hard push to the other’s chest bone._

_Emotions crashed through his mind like a hurricane.  Anger.  Confusion.  Distrust.  Fear.  Each one tried its best to drown him, but he held on to his sanity despite the whirlwind clawing down his resolve.  What was the reason Keith refused to explain himself?  What was it that had that wounded look flashing through his violet eyes?  Why did he need to know so badly?_

_None of it made sense._

_A look of defeat spasmed across the Slytherin’s pale face before he breathed out the last words Lance had expected to hear.  “I’m gay,” he whispered, gaze skittering away from him, brimming with unparalleled sadness._

_Lance’s fingers loosened from the shock, though it could have been regret.  It was hard to tell right then when he was still so very confused.  “Wh… what,” he asked, uncertainty pooling in his chest._

_This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be.  This wasn’t the conversation he was supposed to be having.  And never in a thousand years did he expect someone so coolly collected to look so small and broken, like he was confessing to a murder he’d been agonizing over for years prior.  That wasn’t the person he knew._

_Keith’s tongue darted out to wet his lips before they quirked up without an ounce of humor.  “Gay?  Like I don’t fancy the fairer sex in the least?  So, I apologize if you’ve gotten the wrong idea, but I’m not personally interested in her or any female in this school, for that matter.”_

_The words themselves weren’t the hardest pill to swallow.  It was the way he’d said them, like the very idea was loathsome and abhorrent, even to himself.  That alone was enough to make Lance’s heart throb painfully, though he couldn’t begin to explain why.  In the haze of his alcohol-induced rage, he didn’t particularly care to explore it much.  What he needed most was to get the fuck out before he did anything to make it even worse._

_Taking a step back, his arms fell uselessly to his sides, mouth so dry he didn’t quite know if it was even usable anymore.  Somehow, he was able to mumble off a quick “oh,” before he turned on his heel and shuffled back up to his room, every last nerve ending in his body suddenly dead silent._

_Even as he fell back onto his bed in a daze and gazed up at the crimson hangings, hundreds of chaotic sounds barraging the inside of his mind, all he could feel burning inside of himself was shame and the strangest sense of relief._

* * *

 

Keith awoke with a splitting headache.  Rolling over, he cracked open a single violet eye, the world around him blurry and distorted as he sought out the familiar bright red glow.  The clock on the nightstand read ten fifteen AM, which meant that despite his best efforts to sleep away his misery, his body was still accustomed to early rising.  Rolling onto his back, he heaved a sigh.

Flashes from the night before danced through his mind, tormenting him as a shudder racked his body.  Eyes gazed up at the dark ceiling unblinkingly, wishing he could disappear into the mattress.  Wishes didn’t come true, of course.  He’d have to get up and face the world at some point.  For that fleeting moment, he allowed himself a reprieve.

If it were up to him, he’d stay in bed for the whole day, locked safely away from Lance’s judgment. 

As it was, his stomach was halfway to eating itself from hunger, and the pressure in his bladder was nothing to ignore.  If he knew just what was out in their kitchenette, he might have transfigured a meal right on the spot.  It was an unfortunate reality that he couldn’t just apparate to the bathroom, either.  What good was an abundance of magical knowledge if you couldn’t use it to avoid your homophobic roommate indefinitely.

Begrudgingly, he rose to his feet, snatching up his wand and holding it protectively against his chest.  There was always the chance that he’d be alone once he stepped out beyond the door.  The thought that Lance could be lying in wait terrified him, but he wasn’t about to go out without a plan.  The element of surprise might be his best bet.  If he was quick and quiet enough, he could shoot off a stupefy and be back inside before it had the chance to fully wear off.

Cracking open the door, a pleasant aroma hit him like a slap in the face.

The unmistakable scent of bacon wafted through the paper-thin seam, accompanied with freshly brewed coffee and a hint of something sugary sweet.  His stomach rumbled, the traitor that it was, curious to know just what foods might be sitting outside.  If he was honest with himself, his mind was, too, but that would be admitting he’d fully chosen to shuffle out from the darkness despite the warning bells in his head telling him it might be a trap.  Food was worth the risk.

Keith emerged from his room into the shared living space and glanced around, gaping openly at what he found.

Standing in the middle of the small kitchenette, dressed in a loose-fitting muggle tee and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, his hair in complete and utter disarray, was Lance.  If that wasn’t enough of a surprise given the boy’s obnoxious need to look perfect at all times, the fact that he was humming a tune and swaying along to the beat while flipping hotcakes in a small pan nearly had him stupefy-ing the obvious doppelganger on the spot.

He seriously considered it, fingers twitching as he raised the wand and pointed it at the other’s unsuspecting back.  That damnable curiosity got the better of him and he sighed inwardly and dropped his arm back to his side, admitting defeat.  At least it wasn’t evil cackling and the stirring of a cauldron like one of those witches in muggle films.  There were worse things he could be doing than cooking breakfast. 

The ends of Keith’s mouth quirked up as the boy he was loathe to admit was Lance plopped a freshly cooked hotcake onto a steaming stack beside himself, pausing momentarily to twirl in the middle of his song with both the pan and spatula in his grip.  When he caught Keith watching the display with an amused look, he nearly dropped the two right there on the spot.

A strangely embarrassed flush flooded his tanned cheeks, clearing his throat loudly before turning back to the stove and setting the pan down.  “It’s not what you think,” he mumbled, flipping off the burner and wiping his hands on his pajama trousers.

Keith willed his feet to move, cautious though it might have been, descending the stairs one step after another.  “And what do I think it is,” he asked, boring into the back of the other’s head with an intense gaze.

Lance spun back and swiped a nervous hand through his messy hair.  “I.  Well.  I’m not entirely sure _what_ you’re thinking, but I know you’re probably wrong.”

“I think you’re standing in the kitchen cooking breakfast while you hum and dance.”

“Okay, so you’re not wrong.  But I know you’re thinking something wrong, or you wouldn’t be giving me that look right now.”

Keith quirked a brow.  “And what look is that?”

“Suspicion,” Lance replied, lifting the plate up with one hand.  “And while you do have every right to be suspicious, I just want you to know that I’m unarmed right now and that I have enough hotcakes and bacon to feed a small army.  There’s also coffee and pumpkin juice already on the table.  I hope you’re hungry.”

“Why,” is all he could come up with out of the onslaught of questions buzzing around his brain.  Like, why are you making hotcakes in the first place?  Why aren’t you looking at me like you normally do?  Who are you and where is the real Lance? 

That last one was more a two-part question, the second part being, will you please continue to be him, instead, because you seem far less obnoxious already.  It was still subject to further scrutiny, but at least he wasn’t being attacked by this changeling like he’d except the real one to do.  There was always the chance of something far more sinister awaiting him.

A spasm of something flickered on the others face, blue eyes skittering away for a moment before they snapped back and seemed to grow guarded.  As Keith approached the Gryffindor cautiously, hand still tightened around his wand, just in case, he began to notice little details he hadn’t gotten a chance to from across the room.

Like the puffy skin in half-moon crescents encircling Lance’s undereye region, or the fact that his lower lip looked chewed raw.  His clothing was too pristine to have been slept in, not that he couldn’t have put it on upon getting up, but that didn’t account for the fact he also looked utterly exhausted.  Even his hair wasn’t the slept on kind of messy.  More the ‘ran your hands through it fretting about something’ kind.

Tilting his head to the side, Keith voiced his curiosity aloud.  “Did you sleep at all last night?”

The ends of Lance’s mouth twisted wryly.  “Not really,” he admitted sheepishly.  “I was having a hard time of it, so I got up a few hours ago and have been prepping ever since.”  After a beat of silence, he swallowed visibly.  “Kogane I… I think we need to have a talk.”

That surprised him, stopping on the opposite side of the counter and raising his brows high on his forehead.  There was no snotty nickname, no bite of venom to his tone.  The only way he could have thrown Keith even more for a loop would be to have used his first name for once, which would have no doubt ended in him hexing the imposter on the spot.

“About what,” he asked lightly, though something told him he knew exactly where the conversation was headed.  The only thing he couldn’t figure out was why the Gryffindor wasn’t snarling or picking a fight.  Not that he’d let his guard down for a second just because the guy _seemed_ friendlier than normal.  He wasn’t daft.

Lance motioned to the breakfast nook with his head, grabbing up a plate of crispy bacon in his other hand and setting them both down on the small table.  Both places were set, one across from the other, complete with silverware and napkins and cups.  He sat in one chair, watching Keith quietly until he acquiesced with an eye roll, dragging out the opposite seat and perching on the end reluctantly.

“I should start by saying I’m sorry for accusing you of hitting on Nyma just to be a dick.”  Keith jumped up so fast that Lance recoiled away from him in surprise.  “Woah, woah, woah,” he shouted, eyes wide and hands flying up in a placating gesture, “I told you I wasn’t armed.  Point that thing someplace else.”

Lowering his wand, he eyed the other suspiciously.  “Did someone cast a spell on you?  I don’t understand how any of this makes sense otherwise.”

Another wry smile pulled the Gryffindor’s mouth.  “I’ll get to that part.  For now, just sit down and listen.  Also, the food is going to get cold if you don’t eat it.”

“I don’t-“ his stomach rumbled loudly, cutting off the remainder of his refusal.  Blushing furiously, he plopped back onto the chair.  “How do I even know it’s safe?”

Lance chuckled at that.  “Do you really think I’d poison you inside our shared dorm when we’re the only two people who know the password to get in?”  Keith gave him a pointed look and he rolled his eyes.  “Okay, fair enough, but I’m not _that_ much of an asshole.  Or an idiot.  And despite what you think about being a Gryffindor, I have both tact and cunning enough to plan better than that.  Plus, I’m having some, too.”  As if to further emphasize his point, he picked up his plate and loaded it with bacon.

Pursing his lips, Keith gazed down at the food skeptically.  “How did you get the stuff to make this?  We don’t have most of the ingredients inside this dorm, and the elves won’t stock anything unless you ask for it in advance.  I know you didn’t put in a request, and I doubt you’d leave and risk getting caught for something like hotcake ingredients.”

The other shrugged.  “Hunk brought them.”

“Hunk just happened to stop by to bring you random ingredients with which to make breakfast,” he stated with a sarcastic sneer.  

Lance rolled his eyes once more, sighing in exasperation.  “No, I asked him to.”

“When?”

“This morning.”

Keith watched him take a large bite of hotcake through narrowed eyes.  “Are you trying to make the story unbelievable, or is that just a gift you have?”

In his defense, he did manage to chew and swallow thoroughly before the nonplused look overtook his face, clucking his tongue in annoyance.  “I sent a Patronus to him asking him for the stuff from the kitchen so I _could_ make the breakfast.  Are you satisfied now?  Merlin, I’m starting to remember exactly why I dislike you.”

“Let me get this straight,” Keith said as he crossed his arms and sat back in the chair.  “You not only used an advanced spell to obtain ingredients for a meal you wanted to cook, but then you just so happened to feel in the giving and generous mood for once in your life and wanted to share the wealth with your roommate, whom you despise, just… because?”

“That about sums it up, yeah.  Except there was a reason.”

“Who are you and what have you done to Lance,” he cried, throwing up his hands in defeat.  After a beat he added, “I might actually prefer him, at least I _understand_ being a complete asshole for no reason.  This is just… well, it’s a little creepy, if I’m perfectly honest.  And suspicious.  And I’m having a really hard time believing this isn’t a dream or a trick or something to that nature because why would you ever _do_ something nice, and how in the hell am I supposed to even buy half of that story, let alone the entire thing?  I mean.  A Patronus.  Really?  You couldn’t have said something with just a hairbreadth more credibility?  And… where are you going?”

Lance stood up in the middle of his long-winded rant, shuffling back into the kitchen and grabbing something off the counter.  Before Keith could process the fact that it was a wand and he should probably protect himself, the Gryffindor raised it up and flicked his wrist.  “Expecto Patronum,” he murmured, seconds before white wispy smoke shot out of the end.

It swirled through the air, solidifying into a rather surprising form.  Keith had to wonder once again if the whole thing wasn’t some strange dream, mouth sitting agape as the Corporeal Patronus encircled its caster’s legs, glancing over at him with large, intelligent eyes. 

“It’s a lioness,” he breathed, partially in shock.  Not for the fact it was a large and carnivorous creature sitting nearly chest height and gazing at him solemnly.  But because it was the exact same thing he’d produced the only time he’d attempted the spell out of curiosity back in fifth year. 

His fingers itched to try again that very moment, but he held himself back.  Wasn’t there some information out there about people producing the same Patronus having the same exact kind of soul?  Wouldn’t that mean he and this asshole were _exactly the same_?  That was a terrifying thought.  Maybe his was different now, they did change.  On occasion.  With special… circumstance…

Lance allowed the creature to nuzzle against his leg for a moment, staring down at it with a fond expression.  “I call her Blue.  Not for any particular reason, it just felt right.”

Keith swallowed hard.  “Is it… I mean.  When did you learn to do that?  We don’t exactly practice in class, seeing as how there isn’t much need.”

“Probably sometime in fifth year, after they teach it in DADA.”

 _Well, there goes that hope,_ he thought wryly.  Despite his internal panic attack, Lance pressed on.

“Not that I wasn’t curious for longer, but Hunk was the one who thought up using them to communicate across the school.  We lived next door to each other growing up, so we used to do the same thing with those cans and a piece of string at night sometimes.”  Mirth made his blue eyes dance as he thought of something.  “It was actually really great once we figured it out.  The first time a black bear came galloping into the Gryffindor commons, the entire place was chaos.  The fact it had Hunk’s melodic voice did little to sway people to its harmlessness.”

“What is Katie’s,” he asked curiously and got a strange look in response.  Leave it to the guy to forget his own childhood friend’s given name.  “You know, Pidge?”

“Oh,” Lance replied with a bark of laughter.  “Sorry, I’m not used to people calling her that.  I forget that’s even her name since no one I know uses it.”  He shook his head and smirked.  “It’s a hawk, which is oddly fitting if you think about it.”

“It does suit her personality,” Keith said with a contemplative nod.  “Same with Hunk.  I have a feeling despite his outward friendliness, he could probably tear a person in half with his bare hands.”  The Gryffindor burst into a fit of hysterics, leaving him to stare back with a puzzled frown.  “What?  What’s so funny.”

“Bear hands,” he wheezed, clutching at his stomach.  “It’s just.  That’s so perfect.” 

Keith watched the whole scene in open amazement.  It wasn’t that he’d never witnessed Lance laughing before.  He had.  On multiple occasions.  Just never after something he’d said, and certainly never so filled with pure jubilation.  If he was honest, it wasn’t the worst sight.  Possibly one of the better ones.

After a beat, he wiped at his eyes and hummed happily, the hints of a smile still pulling his lips.  “Okay, enough of that.  The food is going to be too cold if it isn’t eaten soon.  There’s nothing better than a warm hotcake.  They’re just not as good when they sit for too long.”

Blue disappeared, and the spell cast over Keith vanished with her.

It was then he remembered why they’d even gotten onto the subject of the Patronus Charm in the first place.  Glancing at the stack of hotcakes with hesitation, he finally decided to throw caution to the wind and put one on his plate. 

Even if it was the strangest morning in his entire Hogwarts life, even if Lance had been potioned or bribed into completely flipping a one-eighty on him, he couldn’t keep denying his hunger.  The smell of food alone was enough to stab hot pokers into his gut painfully.  As he brought a small piece up to his mouth and took a bite, the flavor exploded over his tongue, eyes slipping shut as he hummed in contentment.

“They’re great, right,” Lance asked, voice filled with pride.  It was all Keith could do to nod his head in agreeance, shoveling more into his mouth by the second.  “My sister taught me to make them like this.  Our mother wasn’t a very good cook growing up, so she taught herself how to make various dishes.  Her favorite was breakfast.”

“Your sister is a saint,” he mumbled back, piling another three onto the plate.

Lance’s laugh was like a calm ocean wave, washing over him softly.  Blue eyes stared back at him with strange emotion, the strangest one out of all of them: kindness.  “She’s actually the reason I decided to make them today.  And also why I’ve decided to apologize to you.”

Keith stopped eating entirely to frown, suddenly feeling the suspicion bubble back up in his chest.  “I don’t even know your sister, though.  Why would she have anything to do with-“

“When my sister came out to us, I was seven.”

Violet eyes widened in shock, jaw going slack as he gaped across the table like Lance had sprouted a second head or something.  The Gryffindor only smiled thinly in response before pressing on.

“She’s nine years older than me, and I looked up to her like she hung the moon in the sky.  She was my absolute hero, the person I respected more than anyone else.  Still is.  And it wasn’t an easy thing for her to do, but she’s got bravery in spades.  More than most.  I didn’t know it at the time, but last year when she brought her first girlfriend home for Christmas to introduce us all, she confided to me that being different than her peers had always made her really depressed in the past.  She said that the other girls at school would tease her sometimes, call her names and make her ashamed to be who she was.  I thought, that’s so unfair.  Why does it matter who she loves?  That doesn’t make her any less amazing.”

Keith dropped his gaze down to the half-eaten food, completely at a loss for words.  Out of anything else, this was probably the last thing he expected from Lance McClain.  Hatred, yes.  Distrust, most definitely.  He had heard with his own ears from the other’s lips how vehemently disgusting it was to fancy another bloke.  So why did understanding and acceptance hurt him so much?

“I’m not saying you’re a complete idiot, Kogane.  I fully realize my part to play in this; I have a good recollection of the number of things I’ve implied in the past.  But you’re a bigger idiot than I thought if you honestly believe a fourteen-year old’s words and let them make you feel bad about being who you are.  What you should have done is put me in my place, and man do I feel like crap knowing I’m no better than the people who did the same shit to Emily, but that’s no excuse for why you would let-“

“I did,” he mumbled, cutting the other off in the middle of his rant.

Lance blinked at him a few times in surprise, the room becoming so silent it felt suffocating.  After a beat, he shook his head.  “I’m sorry.  What?”

“In fourth year.  After we had that argument in the hall and you accused me of being queer, so I turned it around on you?  It didn’t really kick in until later on, but everything you did after that just felt so much _worse_.  I had only just realized that I was different, and then you guessed it out of nowhere like you’d legilimenced it straight out of my head.  It made me feel… furious.  And self-righteous.  And vindicated.  And I wanted you to suffer like I was suffering; like you made me suffer for years before that.  So, I tripped you going down those stairs.”  Biting his lip hard, he dropped his gaze once more.

“Is that… why…” Lance’s voice trailed off and Keith shrugged.

“It felt really good at the time, and then utterly horrible.  But it made you leave me be, for the most part, so I just punched you in the face the next time you pissed me off.  Because you really are a fucking asshole, Lance.  Like, a complete and utter dick.”  Glancing back up, he cracked a wry smile.  “That’s the shittiest excuse I’ve ever given as justification for doing something adherently wrong.”

Lance frowned, running a hand through his messy dark hair.  “So, all this time.”  Blue eyes looked at him critically for a second before he leaned in closer and cocked a brow.  “I just want you to know that I don’t hate you for being gay.  I’ll never fault anyone for who they fancy; because it really doesn’t matter in the least.  And this apology extends back to anytime I implied otherwise.  I’m sorry if I made you feel bad about that.”  He stopped talking and grinned cheekily.  “But you should _definitely_ feel bad about being a bloody prat.  Also, about the fact I have to look at that shitty hair of yours on a daily basis.  But that’s the extent of it.”

“Just so long as you feel bad about subjecting me to your obnoxious shower singing,” Keith said with his own crooked smile.

Lance gasped dramatically, clutching a hand to his chest.  “My voice is a gift to all mankind, I’ll have you know.  You should feel lucky to hear it nearly every week.”

“Twice a week,” he quipped, grinning even harder.  “Sometimes three or four times when you’re _really_ out to annoy the piss out of me.”

“All the more reason you should thank me for my wonderful generosity,” he sniffed back, sticking his nose in the air haughtily.  The hints of a smile could still be seen at the corners of his mouth, blue eyes shimmering with fire when they glanced his way.

Keith shook his head with a derisive snort.  “Speaking of piss, I’ve had to since I came out here.  If we’re done with the whole _feelings_ thing, I’d like to go relieve myself before I burst.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance said with a dismissive wave of the hand, picking up his fork to resume his meal.

Rising to his feet, he grabbed his plate and took it over to the small sink in the kitchen.  Part of his stomach was still in knots, and despite the fact he’d hardly eaten anything, it wasn’t likely he could force down even a single bite more.  Too many emotions rolled around inside of him, too many thoughts flittering through his brain at breakneck speed.  He could try and sort them all out, but if he was completely honest with himself, he didn’t want to right then.  They’d be there later.

“Kogane.” 

Turning, he quirked a brow at his roommate.

Lance eyed him strangely for a moment, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.  “I still hate you, though,” he said in his typical snotty tone.

Keith chuckled at that, feeling some of the tension drain out of his muscles.  “I know.  Me, too.”

Slipping from the room, he smiled softly to himself, pleased with the thought that things might just be looking up for the two of them from then on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I don't know if this is as much as a huge leap as I'm thinking it is, I have yet to go back and read through the entire fic in one sitting, so I don't know if this is like night and day sudden transformation. If it is, I apologize, and it would be because I started this fic with a woefully different image in my mind.  
> I was going for dark that grew darker, and now my heart has changed and I want to put that somewhere else, a back burner for a different fic. That's probably the reason I hesitated so long, I felt myself begin to waver and then didn't see a path back through all that horrible crap.  
> Thankfully, my guiding light grabbed my hand and told me where to go, or I'd still be glaring at the word document (filled with 4k words, too) wondering why I did this to myself.  
> I don't want these boys to be enemies anymore! They're not going to be friends. I assure you, they will probably argue hotly quite a bit. But less hate. Less mean. Less dark. And good things, too. Way more good moments. I'm done breaking my goddamned heart with all of this terrible shite.  
> Now... now I need to continue figuring out where the hell I'm going. Luckily, the stuff after the entire turning point is all the same. Just... a few more fumbling chapters and I can get this ship back on course. Ha. I'm funny. I'm not funny...
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr and yell at my ass to stop being a dick - Cherrypie62666  
> Also, you'll know I'm not dead if you don't read my other fics and see me posting constantly if you check Tumblr regularly.


	10. A shade of dazzling Violet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Y'all, enjoy this obnoxiously shortened chapter due to the behemoth size it was growing into!  
> Cheers. <3

Lance was elbow deep in soapy water when the Slytherin approached him later that evening, expression more than a bit skeptical.  His mind was still running on fire whiskey and sleep-deprivation and copious amounts of sugar, so he’d taken it upon himself to clean up their shared kitchen the muggle way, with soap and hands and a questionably old and shriveled sponge that may or may not have once been a pygmy puff.  Which only managed to make more of a mess for him to take care of, but that was the least of his worries right then.

If he were being completely honest with himself, he still wasn’t quite sure what had transpired that morning.  It wasn’t his original intention to go into everything with a shoddy apology he himself could hardly be made to believe, and an offering of… whatever this strange new development was he could feel dancing there in the far recesses of his mind, just far enough away that he couldn’t quite touch it, let alone begin to comprehend its complexity.

No, in the beginning, he had meant to just let it go and pretend that everything was alright.  That was his normal failsafe when presented with an issue that felt far too weighted to be worth the effort put into it.  Keith was never, ever going to be worth patching up seven-years-worth of negativity and muck to see if there wasn’t something salvageable left.  Why waste time with all that when he could just turn a blind eye and call it good enough?

Somewhere along the way, his thoughts had abruptly turned to Emily and her kindhearted smile, and that was all it took to feel like the biggest prat on the face of the Earth.  His sister would never approve of how he was handling things, especially not considering her own rocky past.  Even just the idea of her disappointment in him was enough to find him leaping from his bed and racing halfway out of the dorm before he’d remembered the punishment and was forced to think up a new plan of action.

Which was more than a bit daft, once he let the whole of it sink in.  Suffice it to say, he was feeling more than a little off.  Especially once he processed the newest bits of information given to him, taking a large step back to fully assess the entire past and come to the agonizing conclusion that…

Keith cleared his throat to announce his presence, drawing his gaze up and over to a pair of hard-set purple eyes.  The pale skin beneath them was still sallow and shadowed from a night of inadequate sleep, the lines of his face still etched with the same distrustful expression he’d worn for that past seven years in Lance’s presence.  A single eyebrow cocked up in question, chapped lips parting slightly before his tongue darted out to wet them nervously.

“What are you doing?”

Lance couldn’t help but crack a smile, holding up the spatula in his soap-covered hands.  “Wow, Kogane, I’m impressed with your lackluster deductive reasoning skills.  I’d think you would know better than most what doing the dishes looks like.”

Keith let out a sound that was equal parts a snort and scoff.  “I can see that.  What I meant was why.  Why are you doing the dishes when the elves will take care of them by tomorrow morning?”

“I enjoy cleaning?”

His expression spasmed once again, and Lance had to wonder if leaving himself defenseless was really the smartest decision with a trigger-happy roommate on the loose.  To his shock and surprise, the Slytherin didn’t even glance toward the wand sticking out of his trouser pocket.  Instead, he quirked his lips in what might have been called an act of amusement, though was probably just a malfunction of sorts.

“I… see,” Keith replied in a strangled tone, and it became more evident by the second that he was trying to suppress a laugh.  “Care to explain the last thing you remember before the bright white flash of light that clearly explains your sudden hard left into Stepford housewife levels of out of the ordinary behavior?”

“For the last time, I wasn’t spelled,” he drawled, rolling blue eyes hard as he turned back to the sink full of bubbles with a huff.  Plunging the spatula into the tepid water, he resumed his scrubbing with irritated movements.  “If you knew anything about me, none of this would come as a surprise to you, in the least.”

“So, you’re saying I should chalk it up to a personality quirk and move on?”

“If it would make you stop badgering me, then yes, do that.” 

A bubble floated up and tried to land on his nose, but he blew it away, watching as it swirled through the air before popping without warning.  Bits of soppy foam landed on his arm in retaliation.

“That’s actually what I’ve come to talk to you about.  If… if you’re not too busy?”

Lance stopped cleaning and turned back to his roommate with a frown.  “What?”

“I don’t know you,” Keith said as he awkwardly shifted his weight from foot to foot.  “Not even a bit.”

“I know…” he replied in a condescending tone.

Pursing his lips angrily in response, the other looked a bit like he was debating which hex would be the most appropriate one to use right then.  “I don’t suppose this is going to be a reoccurring thing,” he finally asked in a flat voice, gesturing around the place ambiguously.  “This morning and their strange developments?”

“The hotcakes?  Not likely.  I’d think they’d get boring if you were to have them too often, anyhow.”

“Not being constantly at one another’s throats,” Keith clarified with a scowl.

Grabbing up a dishtowel, Lance dried his hands off, leaning back into the counter and crossing arms over his chest.  “I’m not sure I follow…” he mumbled, eyes narrowed in confusion.  Perhaps it was the last thing he’d expected, though that could also be said about the whole day thus far.  “Are you asking because it was strange for you and your inability to tolerate human kindness for more than minutes at a time?”

“If anyone is unable to-“ his words abruptly halted, jaw rippling as he took a deep breath through his nose, letting it out slowly through his mouth.  Violet eyes closed as he composed himself further before shaking his head and returning to his previously stoic state.  “I’m just asking because it made me think and I’d like to know if this was a single time occurrence or if you thought it was possible to change our dynamic for the greater good.”

Lifting one shoulder up, he dropped it back down with a halfhearted shrug.  “I guess that depends.”

“On?”

“Factors.”

Keith looked perturbed, clucking his tongue distastefully in response.  “What about the deal we made, then?  Can I take you at your word that you’ll uphold my request, or are you going to find some idiotic reason to back out like I figured you would from the start?”

“You’re not making sense here, dude,” Lance replied with his typical sneer.  “Seriously, I feel like you’re all over the place and I can’t quite decide if you’re about to hit me or not, so can you just tell me whatever it is you are rambling on about while I’m still willing to listen?”

Raking a hand through his dark hair, he heaved an exasperated sigh.  “Look, you agreed to certain terms for attending that party with you, and now that it’s done and over with, I want you to follow through like you promised.  Is that really so much to ask?”

Violet eyes leveled him with a look of trepidation, causing a shot of uncertainty to twist around in his gut.  “When you put it like that, it makes me reluctant to agree to anything without knowing the specifics…”

“I want us to be civil,” Keith stated in a matter of fact tone of voice.  “From now until the end of term.  I want to stop all of this arguing and terrible shit we do to one another before we both end up kicked out on our arses with nothing to show for our past efforts.”

“You want to be… friends,” he asked with a smirk, brow quirking incredulously.

The Slytherin snorted in response.  “Hardly.  As if you and I could ever _be_ friends.  But as the saying goes, if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.  Merlin knows you and I will never run around complimenting one another, and if we were to, it would undoubtedly be snide and sarcastic.  I just want to be mutually chaotic neutral to one another.  Which means we _both_ improve on something.  I’d never be so daft as to pretend only one of us is to blame, here.”

“So, forgive and forget, as it were?”  Lance kicked off the cabinets with a chuckle, taking a large step into his roommate’s personal circle of space.  “No more hexing and cursing one another.  No more fist fights and long trips down flights of stairs?  You expect me to… what?  Treat you like a decent human being?  Is that it?”

In his defense, Keith didn’t flinch even for a second, chin tilting up defiantly as he stared up with steely purple eyes.  Shoulders back, arms hanging limply at his sides, his wand remained safely tucked inside his trouser pocket.  Not that he ever needed it in the past.  “I don’t expect you to be able to change everything all at once.  I don’t delude myself into thinking either one of us can turn around and achieve it without the occasional slip-up.  I’m just asking for a truce, that’s all.  Ignore me if it suits you better, but I’m done.  I wash my hands of this.”

Raising up his hand, he clapped it down gently on the other’s shoulder, earning a look of guarded surprise as the boy jerked away like the touch itself had burned him.  “Merlin, Kogane.  Has anyone ever told you that you need to lighten up?  Seriously, dude, you could curdle milk with all that sour negativity.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now,” he hissed through clenched teeth, eyes narrowing themselves to little slits.

Lance snickered with rapturous glee, sidestepping around the other and waltzing slowly toward his bedroom.  “Okay, you win.  I’ll play nice from now on.”  Turning back, he cracked a wry smile at the glower being directed his way.  “Not too nice, mind you.  We are bound to piss one another off from time to time, I’m pretty sure that’s just a product of our clashing personalities.  But sure.  A truce is something I can do.  And hey, it’s only until the end of the year.  After that, I hopefully will never have to see you again.”

“I would be so lucky,” Keith muttered angrily from somewhere behind him.

He took the stairs two at a time, waving a dismissive hand into the air only when he’d stopped to silently cast the spell to unlock his door.  “Pleasure doing business with ya, Mullet.  Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to sleep for the next, oh, thirteen hours straight.  Ta.”  Then he closed the door with a soft click.

Laying sprawled out on the crisp, cool sheets, the crimson hangings drawn to block out the light he was too lazy to get up and turn off, a smile curled its way uninvited across his mouth.  Whether or not things were changing for the better, it was hard to say, but already his limbs were lighter than he could remember them being for some time. 

It never occurred to him before just how heavy hating another could truly be.

* * *

 

By Wednesday afternoon, life was balancing out to be much like it had been all those years prior.  There were still strange thoughts and worries flittering through his mind, and sure, he’d rarely if ever get to chat the night away with a mate about his fears and hopes and dreams, but that didn’t mean it was terrible.  Different.  Calmer, for the most part.  And, okay, he had to physically restrain himself from hexing Keith two mornings prior when he was awoken by an incessant banging on his door after he’d forgotten to set his alarm and was enjoying slumber a little too much to give a piss about classes, but that was neither here nor there.

Truth be told, the thought of a truce had already crossed his mind on more than one occasion that year.  Not so much in the very beginning, but he’d be a liar if he said he never once wondered about how much simpler life could be without all of the constant turmoil thrown into the mix.

It was exhausting to keep up with it all, tiresome in a way that leeched down into your bones and sucked the very luster from your skin.  Without a certain chunky and lovable friend of his constantly egging him on to continue fucking around, and the rush of warm satisfaction he got whenever the Slytherin showed even a hint of disdain on his pretty face, things might never have escalated throughout the years in such a toxic and stifling manner.  And then where would they be?  Probably relative strangers…

“Lance, hey.  Wait up.”

Glancing over his shoulder, he caught sight of Hunk pushing through the crowd of students on their way between classes, dark skin flushed a deeper shade of bronze-hued pink.  Bits of his black hair was sticking up in disarray all over his head, looking much like he’d run his fingers through it anxiously.  Which, knowing his friend, was likely the case.

Keith, too, stopped at the sound, a gentle furrow between his brows before he nodded and gestured over to a statue with a strangely pained expression on his pale face.  Ever the punctual nuisance, the idea of waiting no doubt killed him inside, which was somehow still a slightly satisfying thought.  Dropping his bag down beside the grey stone slab, he slid to the floor and pulled out a book, purple eyes flitting over the contents almost immediately as his knees curled up to his chest.

Lance swiveled back toward his friend with a quirked brow.  “Need me for something, big guy,” he asked as the other finally made his way through a gaggle of chattering first years, bending at the waist and huffing to try and catch his breath.

Hunk waved a hand up above his still lowered head, wheezing as he spoke.  “I just… wanted… to ask how it went,” he replied dabbing his brow with the hem of his robe’s sleeve.  Rising back to full height, he grinned wickedly as his brown eyes flicked over to the Slytherin resting some ten feet away, skittering back and narrowing conspiratorially.  “You know, with that stuff I brought for you.  You sure must have been ravenous to ask for all of that food.  The ingredients were more than enough for _two people_.”

“Did you really run the whole way from Herbology just to inquire about my eating habits,” Lance hummed with an amused twitch of his mouth, ignoring the not so subtle accusation outright.  “Because I hate to break it to you, but that could have waited for a better time.  Like, say, when it’s not in the middle of classes.”

“Professor Longbottom actually asked me to deliver Slughorn’s newest request for gillyweed to the storeroom, so I was already down by the Potion’s classroom coincidentally.”  A smug smile suddenly shone brightly on his face.  “So,” he chirped, crossing arms over his broad chest and drawing out the vowel sound unnecessarily long, “did you happen to share that meal with anyone, by chance?  A certain roommate you have, maybe as some kind of _apology_ for something?”

Lance’s benign expression dissolved instantly into a scowl.  “If you’re implying I intended to-“

Hunk cut off his feeble attempt at denial with a sharp snort, rolling his eyes.  “Come on, dude.  Let’s be honest here.  I’ve known you for too long to believe you’d whip up Emily’s famous hotcakes on a whim.  Those are your favorite way to apologize for ninety percent of your wrongdoings.  I’d know, I’ve been on the receiving end enough times.  That, and the fact I saw Jared and Marcus at breakfast on Sunday with no knowledge as to your whereabouts, led me to believe something happened.”

“And you’ve come to conclude… what, exactly,” he asked, quirking a brow.

The Hufflepuff shrugged.  “I know how to put two and two together, Lance.  You felt bad about something you did and wanted to apologize in the sincerest way you know how.  I have to admit, despite knowing just how much of a softie you really are, I never expected Keith to be on the receiving end of your generosity.  So, what finally changed your mind about him?  Was it when you realized he’s only an asshole whenever you’re around?”

Taking a step closer, Lance dropped his voice to a quieter pitch.  It wouldn’t do for the Head Boy to suddenly overhear the two of them and form absurd ideas in his head.  Even if they were more or less accurate.  Possibly.  He was still on the fence and more than a little confused.  “First of all, you’re crazy if you think I’d ever apologize for anything to _him._   Come on, you know me better than that.  Second, why did you wait three days to bring this up, and when we have almost zero privacy, too?”

“Well, I was waiting to see if you’d come and confide in me, first.  And, okay, you know how much I hate forming opinions until I’ve gathered all of the facts about something.”  Glancing over at Keith, he smirked.  “But then I noticed you watching him with this weird expression ever since then, different from your typical hostile one, and the pieces started clicking into place little by little.  I don’t know what all happened, but it’s obvious that you feel-“

“Well, I’ll see you around, Hunk my man,” Lance blurted out, hefting his bag up onto his shoulder with a falsely bright grin.  The Hufflepuff blinked a few times in clear confusion, watching as he took a large step backward and offered up a halfhearted shrug of apology.  “Don’t want to be late to class.  You know how Slughorn gets about tardiness.  You should hurry if you want to make it to Divination, anyway.”

Turning abruptly on his heel, he caught the exasperated sigh Hunk heaved at his back.  “Alright, then.  I guess I’ll catch you later, Lance.”

Already the crowd of students was beginning to thin out, only a few of the slower stragglers left behind whilst they lamented over their midweek woes to their friends.  Shuffling up to the engrossed Slytherin, he cleared his throat, drawing unfocused purple orbs up to his face.  “We should get a move on, yeah?”

Keith closed his book suddenly with a loud snap, giving a curt nod of agreement.  His eyes flicked off into the distance behind Lance momentarily, mouth pursing in thought.  “I could tell Slughorn I had to reprimand a second year if you still need more time,” he mumbled quietly, gaze slipping back with an odd sort of softness permeating the sharp intensity, making him appear almost wistful.  “He isn’t going to question it.  You know how he is about leniency.”

Lance dismissed the idea with a flippant wave, ignoring the urge to turn around and glare at the friend still boring holes into the back of his head.  That would no doubt make the lie even more obvious than he assumed it already was.  “That’s fine.  We were done, anyway.”

“Right,” Keith replied, sounding skeptical at best.  With a shrug, he took his time collecting his belongings and stuffing them back into his school bag.  After a long beat, the ends of his lips quirked upward, purple returning focus to his face.  “He’s already left, now.  You don’t need to look so constipated anymore.”

“I have no clue what you’re going on about, Kogane.  This is my usual expression when dealing with you.”

Laughter spilled past his lips, nose crinkling slightly with amusement.  “That’s actually pretty astute of you, and quite accurate.  I take it back.”

Lance’s hand twitched involuntarily as he watched the other grab onto the statue to help himself stand.  For a moment, he considered reaching out and offering support.  The thought was so uninvited and out of nowhere that by the time he fully ingested the absurdity of it and decided to hard pass, Keith was already scooping up his bag and sidestepping around him.

Giving his head a good shake to clear the muck from his mind, he trailed after the Head Boy down the remainder of the hallway to the classroom, wondering at the sensation pooling in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter passed go, didn't collect $200, and went directly to jail. Seriously, I mean it. This beast was 6600 words and still far from being finished when I finally sighed and decided to split it here and pick up later.  
> Yes, I could have given an 8k+ chapter later on, but I like to offer up things when they're available. And I cannot wait patiently to save my damn life.  
> I wouldn't be surprised if the next bit is 6k+ by itself. This here is roughly 3500? I'm a mad woman. Simply mad.
> 
> I'm also stupid from lack of sleep and feel like everything is disjointed as all hell, so if you notice wonky bits, do be an angel and yell at me until I fix it?  
> Excuse me while I go drown myself in wine and bust out the next part.
> 
> Comments make me want to write faster. I'm 99% sure its scientific fact.  
> I'm 100% sure I'm not a scientist. ^^
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr - Cherrypie62666  
> Allow me to disappoint you there, as well. <3


	11. A head full of doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray for speedy updates and finally being able to post a chapter that was written two days after the other. >.>

Thursday had become a break in the monotony of Hogwarts life.  In light of the recent punishment he’d suffered, Lance had come to view the night’s practice as a chance to get back to the heart of himself, let loose and work off some of the excess energy that churned through his stomach, turning his muscles taut and rigid with anticipation.

Sitting at a desk for hours on end, five days a week, would make anyone feel antsy; especially once it got too chilly to go out on weekends for a quick jog around the grounds.  Normally, he had a plethora of things to do to aid his self-proscribed therapeutic remedies for ‘letting off a little steam’.  The only way he could do that now without the inclusion of a good shag every weekend was Quidditch.

Flying around with his team, laughing and hollering until their voices were hoarse and their limbs felt like jelly was just the kind of weekly medicine he needed to endure anything that life could throw at him.  From nasty breakups to petty arguments between mates, nothing else could pull him out of his funk better than an evening spent with the sun shining down on his back, wind whipping through his hair, and adrenaline coursing fire through his bloodstream.

And it would continue to be like that, no matter what came along.  Nothing could ever take that away from him.  Except, maybe it could.

The sun had just set behind the mountains in the distance, indigo light painting the surrounding landscape in deepening shadows of navy as the bright autumnal afternoon turned into yet another crisp evening.  Chilly winds whistled through the remaining leaves on the nearby aspen and birch, dancing across the grounds and finding their way through the warming charms cast over his robes to nip softly at his flesh. 

The buzz of excitement left over from the successful party that Saturday before was still flowing through his teammate’s veins.  Gryffindor’s stands were filled nearly to full with students from rival houses come to cheer on their mates, the mood itself one of buoyant jovialness that was palpable in its sheer intensity.  Even the thunderous chatter that reverberated around the field was so uproarious and chaotic that if you closed your eyes, it almost felt like a true game.  Almost.

From the moment they’d stepped out onto the pitch, it was evident that no one came for a serious practice.  That was both a blessing to him as well as a curse, though the reason for both was the same.  While the rest of his team lazed and laughed and joked around, Lance dangled high above the ground with a slight frown on his face, mulling over a single thought that had tormented him for some time yet.

In the far away murmur of happy voices that floated up all around him, he found himself uncharacteristically unable to draw his focus onto participating with the rest of his team.  It wasn’t the first time something had wormed its way into his mind and pushed out everything else; stealing away his thoughts until all the was left was harrowing, vicious, unforgiving doubt.  It was, however, the first time that he couldn’t seem to shake it off.

It sat there in the forefront of his many concerns, pressing him down with an unbearable sort of heaviness until his limbs were too stiff to be of much use.  Fog had covered the entirety of his brain in whiteout swirls of infinite mist, dancing and curling and concealing away the information he wanted most in a sea of lifeless grey.

 “Oi, McClain!” 

The Bludger whizzed past his head not a second later, dragging his thoughts away from his troubles and over to sixth-year Beater Cian Finnigan as he raced over, stopping just shy of a terrible collision.  A dusting of rose spread its way across the boy’s normally pale and freckled cheeks, green eyes bright in the soft glow of residual sunlight.

“Sorry about that, mate,” Cian huffed out, thin lips pulling themselves into a sheepish smile.  Pieces of chocolate hair stuck to his temples as he swept bits of fringe away from of his sweaty forehead.  “Aryanna has a mean right hook.  Guess we got a little carried away there while hitting it back and forth, yeah?  Are ya all right?”

“Must have been something to get past you,” he teased the younger male, glancing off toward the empty field behind them.  Darkness pushed in around the pitch, making it difficult to discern the exact location it landed.  Turning back, he shrugged.  “No harm done, though.”

“I’ll try and be more vigilant in the future,” he promised with a resolute kind of aura encircling him.  “Sorry for almost knocking ya on yer arse.”

Lance grinned in response.  “That’s okay, Finnigan.  I shouldn’t be off daydreaming, anyhow.  You two keep up the good work.  Just don’t forget that the aim is to slow the other team down, not completely incapacitate them.”

The boy laughed at that; a hearty sound, rich and deep.  “Aye.  Thanks, Captain.  We won’t be letting ya down, now.”

“Hurry it up, Finnigan,” Aryanna Brimworth hollered from the other side of the pitch, waving around her bat like a madwoman.  “I haven’t got all day, you prat.  I’ve other things to do with my time.”  Twisting the thing deftly with her wrist, she sliced it through the air like a sword, a wicked grin splitting her mocha-skinned face.

“I best do as she says,” Cian muttered under his breath, offering up a small wave before shooting off toward the left side of the field in search of the missing ball.

Lance watched him go for a moment before his gaze flittered from place to place, studying his teammates as they laughed and fooled around nearby. 

The team’s two other Chasers Jared Wright and Bethany O’Reilly were tossing the Quaffle around with second-string players Aiden Baxter and Jason Young, seeing who could get the most shots past their ever-eager Keeper.  If he had to guess, the score was still pretty low amongst them, seeing as how Marcus had vowed to keep all goals down to a crushing zero for the entirety of the year.  Their bitter scowls and Marcus’ gloating smile backed the theory up quite nicely.

Ashely Collins was giving it her best, too, zipping overhead chasing down the Snitch while Seeker Rufus Higgs sat atop his broom high above the tops of the house flags, watching the other fifth-year with a wistful look on his face.  The two were almost equaled in efficiency and speed, but Rufus had made it onto the team the year before the girl tried out, and she graciously accepted the backup position despite knowing she might never get to play in an actual game. 

Even second-string Beater Maxwell Pewters was sort of practicing; if you could call knocking the spare Bludgers out into the dry grass while showing off to a group of giggling Hufflepuff girls who had decided to attend _doing something._   In all fairness, it was the thing he was supposed to be working on, questionable though his method might have been.  Cian and Aryanna were already a perfect team, to begin with, so until they graduated and left him the sole remaining Beater, his time was free to be spent however he so pleased.

The only one of them left at a standstill was him.

Glancing over toward the usual spot all by himself in the Slytherin stands, he caught sight of the raven-haired Head Boy quietly flitting through the pages of a well-worn book.  In the soft glow of twilight, his pale skin appeared almost translucent, illuminated by violet hues until it became otherworldly in its lustrous sheen.  As he turned a page, a gentle smile curved his mouth, lost in words of unknown caliber.  He looked… contented, sitting there all alone, waiting for the practice to finally end.  More so than usual.

An uneasy feeling pooled in Lance’s gut as he turned away with a grimace, racing off toward the other Chasers on his team, calling out to them to toss him the Quaffle for his own round of shots.

By the time it grew far too dark to see by, the lot of them were happily spent.  Sweat trickled along their hairlines, robes clinging uncomfortably to their backs.  The loud chatter from before followed him down the pitch into the boy’s changing rooms, reverberating about the place in echoes of laughter and good-natured teasing.

“Nice shot, Wright,” Marcus called as he clapped the taller boy on the shoulder.  “You’ll destroy Slytherin with that one, no doubt.  First game is coming up soon.”

“We’ll be ready for them,” Aiden chirped, nudging the fellow fourth-year beside himself in the ribcage with an elbow.  “All of us are in top form, just in case.  Ain’t that right, Young?”

“Right you are, mate,” Jason agreed, running a hand through his shaggy black locks, amber eyes flashing with determination.  “You lot don’t have to worry about a thing.  We’ve got your backs, should it come to it.”

“We’d be hard pressed to need either of ye two gobshites,” Cian quipped as he came up and ruffled both younger boy’s heads from behind, ignoring outright their yelps of protest.  “Next year, though.  Ya best be ready to fill in a couple pairs of big shoes, pups.”  Green eyes flicked over to him, a crooked smile pulling across his impish face.  “Once McClain and Wright are gone, we’re fekked.”

The camaraderie continued as everyone changed back into their school uniforms, some of the sweatier amongst them taking to the showers to rinse off the day’s grime.  Water beat hard against the ground in the distance, steam rising high up into the air above their heads.  Metal clinked against metal as lockers opened and shut, screeching out, again and again, to permeate the room with a cacophony of noises.

Lance plopped onto the bench in between a row of lockers, pulling off a shoe with both hands and setting it beside himself, staring vacantly down at the cracks in the white tiled floor.  Sounds steadily blurred and rippled into the background, one by one, until they were nothing more than a gentle hum in his unhearing ears. 

Time ceased all flow, blue eyes unfocused as the images slowly faded away, leaving nothing but the flicker of memories from a time long past.  He picked his way through a plethora of information, sifting through it all with a magnifying glass and a fine-toothed comb.  There was an answer there somewhere.  If only he could just discover it…

“McClain?”

With a start, his head snapped toward the soft sound of the other’s voice.  “I’m sorry, what,” he asked, blinking a few times to pull himself back into the present moment.

It was quieter than it had been when he’d first taken a seat, and he realized with a sinking clarity that a fair bit of time had passed by without his being aware of it.  How much, it was hard to discern; but far too long, in any case.  He hadn’t even managed to fully change out of his robes yet.

Jared sauntered up to him a moment later with a concerned look on his mocha face.  Tucking the ends of his towel around his middle carefully, he reached out a damp hand and placed it atop Lance’s head in a show of comfort.  “Are you all right, mate?  You’ve been out of sorts since the party.  Nyma didn’t get to you too horribly, I hope?  That bird isn’t worth it if you ask me.”

Lance’s brow furrowed slightly in confusion.  “Nyma?”

“Yeah.  I told Marcus to lay off it, for the time being.  You know how he is.  Fiercely loyal and overprotective.  I don’t think it’s anyone’s fault, except hers.  Certainly not the Head Boy’s.  That witch enjoys toying with blokes.  We’ve all seen it happen enough times, yeah?  So, I had hoped you’d not let it get to you.  It’s not you.  It’s her.”

Realization clicked.  “Oh, that,” he mumbled as he shook his head with a wry chuckle.  “Honestly, I’d forgotten all about that.  I was drunk when I made those empty threats.  Thank you, by the way, for stopping me from making a right arse out of myself in front of the whole house.  And, you know, potentially dooming us all.”

Jared grinned at that, crossing muscled arms over his broad chest and cocking his head to the side.  “You don’t expect me to believe you’re actually grateful, do you?  Stopping the fun before it could begin?”

A bead of water caught his attention as it ran down the side of his friend’s throat from his messy black hair, pooling just above his collarbone.  “Normally I might not be.  But with everything that’s happened this year, I can’t say it's such a terrible thing to have someone keeping me in check when I’m not thinking clearly.  Which, admittedly, is often.”

“More than that!  If it were left to you and Bragge, the both of you plonkers would have been kicked out long before now.  At least one of us needs to have a level head on his shoulders.”

Lance hummed in amusement.  “Too true.  I’m not even sure I recall half of what I’d said.  There was something about a few unforgivables and a vat of hot tar if I’m remembering properly?”

The other Gryffindor snorted derisively in response.  “That was the least of it.  I won’t repeat it, I don’t want to put those ideas back into that temperamental bag of hot air you seem to think is your brain.  I shudder to think what horrors you unleashed upon your poor roommate after he finally unhooked himself from that harpy and her talons.”

Lance scratched his cheek sheepishly, glancing about the room for any signs of the others.  Practice might have been over for quite a bit, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be stragglers to listen in.  When he found none, his body relaxed.  “There’s no need to worry, Wright,” he replied with a small sigh, smiling wryly up at the other boy.  “After all this time, I’m beginning to realize that I might be-“

“McClain,” the timid voice interrupted his thoughts as it called out for him hesitantly, “is… everything all right?” 

It was far more worried sounding than he’d ever believed was possible.  Especially when he was the recipient.  There wasn’t a single memory he could dredge up where Keith Kogane had ever been worried about _him_.  Even after…

Jared nudged him with his bare foot, inclining his head over to the exit with a quirked brow.  “Your roommate sounds a bit perplexed there, mate.  Understandably, you’re normally one of the first ones out of here.  You should say something before he rushes in expecting the worst.”

Swallowing hard, he nodded stiffly in response.  “Right.  I was just…”  Clearing his throat, he hollered back into the darkness, “sorry, just finishing up.  Be out in a moment, Kogane.”

“Okay.  Take your time, then.  I’ll be waiting where I always am.”

Lance rose to his feet, shucking out of his Quidditch robes and hanging them up in his locker.  Pulling his arms through the sleeves of his white button-up, he turned back to his mate with a nonplussed expression, fingers deftly working the clasps.  “Are you just going to stand around all night in nothing but a towel?  You’ll miss dinner if you don’t hurry up and change.”

The Gryffindor smirked at him, shaking his head with a laugh.  “I think that’s the least hostile I’ve ever heard your tone when Keith is involved.  And you even managed to forgo a demeaning nickname for once.  Are you ill?”

Clucking his tongue, he slipped into his trousers before knotting the crimson and gold tie at his throat.  “I’m trying this thing where I don’t do the things that will end in my expulsion.  It’s odd, but I’ve suddenly remembered how terribly I wish to graduate and actually pursue my intended career.”

“Don’t let Marcus hear you say that.  He’ll hex you for the imposter you clearly are.”

A bark of laughter erupted from his throat, rolling his eyes at the other boy good-naturedly.  “I’m going to leave you here all alone if you don’t hurry up and _put on your clothes._   I know how frightened you become when abandoned in dark, menacing places all by your lonesome.”  Lance paused for a beat, a wicked grin spreading like wildfire over his face.  “Or need I recount third year when Bragge and I stumbled upon you in the sixth-floor corridor after you’d gone back to-“

“Alright,” Jared yelped, scurrying off toward his locker with renewed vigor.  Peeking his head around the corner, his dark eyes narrowed.  “I thought we swore never to dredge that one up again, you arse.”

“Well, I am an imposter,” he quipped back.

“Har Har.  I’ll be ready in a jiffy.”  His friend disappeared once more, the sound of metal clinking against itself echoing about the room as he opened his locker to fetch his clothing. 

The place where he’d stood only seconds before left evidence of their short conversation, a puddle of liquid collected on the floor where it had slithered its way down his muscled frame to pool on the tiles, shimmering softly in the torchlight.  For some reason, the thought of the boy standing around half-naked made Lance’s face hot with embarrassment, mild discomfort churning through his stomach.

He pushed the strange thoughts out of his mind with an abrupt shake of his head, stuffing his feet into his shoes one after the next.  “Right, I’ll just go tell Mr. Punctuality that we’re waiting on you, then.  Meet us outside, yeah?  We can walk together to the Great Hall.”

“Okay.  See you in a tic.”

* * *

 

Lance found himself sat in the library later that evening, trying his hardest to pay more attention to his work than he did a certain auburn-haired annoyance.  It was a lot easier said than done.

The small round table in the far corner of the room allotted privacy for groups who needed a quiet place to study or finish up homework, away from the usual chatter of student activities.  That also meant there was no escape from the horrible torment he was forced to bear witness to.  Not even the fleeting kind, as no one came down to that area _ever._   Even to snog.

Another giggle echoed around them as he turned the page in his transfiguration book, and he had to yet again repress the urge to roll his eyes or scoff at the obnoxious Hufflepuff and her pathetic excuse for unabashed flirting.  Seriously, the girl was sooner to be asked if there was something wrong with her, a spasm of some kind, before she’d be accused of trying to flirt.  It was… sad.  In an almost hilarious way.  Mostly, it was excruciating.

Some part of him, however small it might be, reveled in the fact that all her effort was in vain.  Keith didn’t fancy the girl back in the least, and he never would.  She could giggle and bat those ridiculously long eyelashes for another hundred years and it would never get her closer to her goal of making the boy notice her.  It was these tiny victories that made it worth the terrible headache.

Not that he truly cared _who_ the Slytherin fancied, that honestly didn’t affect him either way.  It was more to the fact that he hated their now weekly tutoring sessions more than he hated most things, and it was one thousand percent all that annoying bird Selene’s fault.

She couldn’t even look his way without snarling in his direction, as if his existence was somehow the reason _why_ her seizuring lashes had yet to work their whimsical magic on the poor bloke.  That probably wasn’t the true reason for her animosity toward him, but it was about the only reason he could really come up with when he’d never met the girl prior to that year.  She acted as if he was her rival in love, not even responding to his witty quips and interjections despite Keith’s own clear change in attitude toward him.

It was wearing down his patience to the point of wanting to throw his arms up and tell the girl to stuff it and get over herself already.  He would have, too, if not for the fact it might exacerbate the issue further, or Godric forbid, make her cry or something.  He wasn’t that much of an arse.  Even if she did deserve it…

“The constellation Orion is made up of which stars,” Keith asked the girl, peering at her from over the top of the large textbook, the hints of an encouraging smile curling his mouth.

Crinkling her freckled nose, she squinted in thought.  “Well, there’s Bellatrix?”

“Yes.”

“And… Betelgeuse…”

“And?”

Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, she chewed on it mercilessly.  There was a long pause of silence in which the only noise floating around was the gentle turning of a textbook page, before she uttered a very hesitant “Rigel and Saiph…”

Keith beamed back happily.  “Very good, Selene.  And his belt?”

Her eyes slipped shut, brow furrowing, breath hissing out through her clenched teeth.  “Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka; respectively?”

“See, I knew you’d get it.”

Grey eyes sprung open and she gasped.  An obnoxious squeal of delight rumbled up from her throat as she proceeded to bounce happily in her chair, throwing her arms around the Head Boy’s shoulders and shaking him about.  “Merlin, Keith.  I never thought I’d be able to remember everything.  You’re the best!”

“It was all you,” he replied with a laugh, a light dusting of pink spreading out over his cheeks in what was probably embarrassment at being praised.  Lance had noticed that the guy wasn’t very good with people talking him up, despite many years of thinking contrarily.  “I only broke it down in a way that made it easier to remember.”

“Which is my godsend,” she cried.  Pressing small hands against his jaw, she cupped it tenderly.  “I could kiss you right now, I’m that happy.  And here I thought I’d fail my N.E.W.T.s and my dreams would be forevermore slashed.”

“Yes, well.”  Keith cleared his throat, pulling away from the girl awkwardly and busying himself with gathering up his books.  He missed the flicker of sadness that twisted up her pretty face at the obvious dismissal, but Lance didn’t.  By the time he glanced back, she’d composed herself with a soft, wistful expression.  “Same time next week, then?”

“Definitely.  I can’t thank you enough for all your help this year.  Sorry to be such a bother all of the time.  I wish there was something I could do to make it up to you…” her voice trailed off and she batted her eyelashes suggestively.

Keith shook his head, a lopsided smile curling his lips.  “Don’t worry about it.  I’m happy to help whenever you need it.  Call it repayment for your kindness all of fourth year and ever since.”

Grey eyes finally flicked over to acknowledge his blue ones, hardening into cold steel as they bore themselves into him pointedly.  “Yes.  Well.  Not all of us are terrible to other people.”  Rising to her feet, she grabbed up her school bag and left the two of them alone at the large table, offering a terse goodbye as she sauntered away.

Lance quirked a brow at the other.  “Is there an actual reason why that girl hates me or is it just because she has a giant crush on you and my mere existence ruins her shitty attempts at flirtation?”

Keith snorted outright, covering the lower half of his face with a hand before he composed himself and shook his head with a slightly more somber expression.  “ _That girl_ is very sweet, I’ll have you know.  And is fiercely loyal and devoted to her friend’s happiness, more so than most.”

“Yeah, yeah.  She’s the epitome of a Hufflepuff.  I get it.  I’ve got my very own as a testament to their unshakable goodness.  That doesn’t explain why she hates me.  Unless it is because of you?”

“As much as I’d love to say I’m that important, the actual reason is far simpler.  Quite hilarious, too.  And not something you’ll be able to undo, even if you tried.  You might as well just let it go and accept it as an inevitability.”

“Well, out with it, already,” he replied with an exasperated sigh.

Keith appeared to be enjoying himself to no end, lacing fingers beneath his chin and quirking his lips slightly upward.  Violet eyes regarded him with barely concealed mirth.  “You really don’t recognize her at all, do you?”

Lance’s brow scrunched in thought.  “No?  It's not as if I know every person in our year, you prat.  I don’t have time for all that.”

“Right, because you’re so busy shamelessly flirting with every cute girl you see that it’s too hard to remember a single face in a sea of many.”  Clucking his tongue distastefully, he sat back in his chair with a soured expression.

“Hey, I’ll have you know I remember the name of every girl I’ve ever snogged.  That goes double for their faces.  And despite what people think, I won’t just run off with _any_ girl who is willing to proposition me.  I do have standards and think a little better of myself than to shag whatever comes along.  That aside, I can’t be held responsible for every crushed ego or bitter bint who has it out for me for my refusal to reciprocate their-“

“So, then the name Miranda Edgecomb will ring a bell.  Hufflepuff, blonde hair, brown eyes, infectious smile?  Graduated last year and no longer attends our fine institution?”

Lance grimaced at the mention of the name.  “I might… have some recollection of such a girl’s existence, yes.”

Keith snorted derisively, rolling his eyes.  “Well, Selene is Miranda’s childhood friend.  She’s despised you ever since you courted her friend two years past and, as she would put it, ‘conned her into giving up her virginity under the false pretense of love, only to be dumped a week later for another girl with bigger tits.’  That’s a paraphrase, I’ll have you know, she was a little more… vehemently opposed to your inclusion in our tutoring sessions when I informed her we’re a package deal.”

“You know, now that you mention it, she does look _a bit_ more familiar.  Hard to see how I forgot that slap in the face and its culprit.”  Pressing a hand to his cheek, he scowled at the memory.

The sound the Slytherin made was like satin slipping over his skin, gooseflesh rippling down his back at the lilt of melodic laughter.  “I’m sure her animosity only increased when she realized you also disliked me, as well.  Miranda may not be around to protect from you, anymore, but I still am.”

“Speaking of her obnoxiously obvious crush on you and how it's literally painful to watch the sad display any longer,” he deadpanned with a pointedly quirked brow, “are you ever going to let her down easy, or is it fun to keep her hopeful that you might someday return her feelings?”

Keith’s amusement died instantly, replaced with a deep frown, mouth pressing itself into a hard line.  “It’s not as if she’s asked me outright how I feel, or even told me of her own feelings.”

“Yeah, but you clearly aren’t so dense that you’ve mistaken her fluttering eyelashes as a miniature facial spasm.  Now, I might not have a squeaky clean past when it comes to women and sparing their feelings, but I’ve never strung one along if it could be helped.  That’s just… cold.”

A strange combination flickered across the other’s pale face, flittering through anger, skepticism, haughtiness, before finally landing on something akin to reluctant regret.  Lowering his eyes down toward his lap, he drew his bottom lip gently between his teeth.  “I just… don’t know what to say.  I don’t want to hurt her, she’s my friend.”

Lance sat up a little straighter in his seat, catching the Slytherin’s attention with a sudden jolt of surprise.  “Oh, that’s easy,” he chirped with a lopsided grin.  “The best way to do that is to feign complete innocence and bring up the subject of your sexuality in an offhand way.  Like pointing out how hot some bloke is like you’re just another girlfriend gossiping about cute boys.  She won’t even have a chance to feel anything but embarrassment over not reading the signs.  Piece of cake.”

“Isn’t that practically avoiding the issue altogether,” he asked incredulously.

“If it gets the job done and spares her feelings, who cares?  Would you rather have her feel like an idiot and never speak to you again because she went in for a kiss and you blurted out that you’re gay in a panic?  Your options at this point are pretty much to tell her, offhandedly tell her, or avoid it and ultimately feel like a git when it inevitably blows up in your stupid, reluctant face.”

Keith smiled once more, the whole of his tense form seeming to relax suddenly.  “You sound as if this isn’t your first experience with matters such as these.”

A wicked grin slipped across his mouth in response.  “I may have used the very same excuse a time or two, though never with anyone from this school.  Obviously, that wouldn’t work, I do have a reputation to uphold.”

“Hogwarts' biggest prat, I’m well aware of your seven-year hold on the title.”

Lance scoffed loudly.  “Better than Hogwarts' biggest ponce, you git.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s also you,” Keith retorted with a smirk.

Rolling his eyes, he stood from the chair.  “Whatever, Mullet.  Let’s get out of this blasted library already.  My arse is already sore from my broom, sitting on these uncomfortable chairs is only making it worse.”  Hefting up his bag, he narrowed his eyes at the other’s gleeful expression.  “And before you make a joke out of it, yes, my actual broom, in case you forgot the Quidditch practice you pretty much ignored earlier.”

“You’re the one who brought it up, not me.”

“Only because you were clearly thinking it.  I could see it written on your face.  Now, come along.  I haven’t got all night to wait for you.”

* * *

 

Lance laid back against the armrest of the couch in their communal living space, flitting through the pages of that morning’s Prophet, long legs splayed out over the cushions.  He hadn’t gotten around to showering yet, his clothes were a rumpled mess, and if he had bothered to check his reflection even once during the first piss of the morning, he was sure to find his hair mussed and skin entirely splotchy and lackluster. 

Despite his usual fixation with perfection, he couldn’t be brought to care.

At the kitchen table, Keith sat sorting through his own small pile of newspapers, some of them muggle, sipping a cup of black coffee quietly.  He, too, was unwashed and dressed in his usual green striped nightclothes, for a change; though how he’d managed to keep them so pristine was a mystery for another time.

The room was blissfully and wonderfully without any harsh noise.

After finding out that either of them could receive the post directly in their dorm on weekends, the two had decided that sleeping in and catching a light breakfast was far, far preferable to the ruckus that was Saturday mornings in the Great Hall.  Not only were you required to get up at a ‘reasonable’ hour if you wanted to eat before noon, but you had to listen to the sound of thousands of voices echoing around you while you tried your best to much on your dry toast and drink your not as good as Keith could make it coffee without hexing the entire school.

If you weren’t a chipper early morning person, it really wasn’t a good time in the least.

Blue eyes scanned their way down the length of an article about the Holyhead Harpies, vaguely disappointed in the fact that Ginevra Potter had already retired before he knew just how good Quidditch truly was.  They’d won their latest match against Puddlemere United, which was a huge feat for the all-female team, and were well on their way to make it into the final running for the World's Championship.

“Wow.  I can’t believe that actually worked, I thought these things were supposed to… Lance?”

Glancing up from a particularly juicy bit about one of his favorite players and a few unfounded rumors on her love life, he quirked a curious brow.  “Pidge.”

The girl stood in the entryway with a quizzical expression for some time before her eyes skipped back and forth between the two of them, sitting there quietly, with a look that bordered on suspicion.  After a beat, she turned to the big guy standing awkwardly at her side, lips already curling themselves into a wicked smile.  “Well, I guess I was wrong, Hunk.  You won’t have to try his room.”

By that point, Keith’s attention was already pointedly fixated on the two intruders, a gentle frown of disapproval marring his brow.  He didn’t blame the guy, in the full nine or so weeks they’d been living together inside the Head dorms, Pidge had never once shown up, despite her logical claim to the space.

“Why are you here, Katie,” he asked in a guarded tone, and Lance had to suppress the urge to snicker.  It was good to see another on the receiving end of the Slytherin’s distrust for once.

Folding arms over her chest, she tilted her head and clucked her tongue.  “Where else am I supposed to go if I need to speak with you and you never show up for breakfast?  Though, this definitely answered my second question, if you two idiots hadn’t killed one another in a fit of blind rage.”

“Why is he here, then,” Lance asked, pointing at the sheepish looking cuddly giant trying to hide unsuccessfully behind the petite girl’s frame.  Not that he didn’t love the Hufflepuff’s company, it was just strange that both of them needed to talk to Keith at the exact same time.

Hunk shuffled nervously from foot to foot.  “I uh.  I saw Pidge in the hall and she asked if I had seen either of you today.”

“And after we went around on a wild goose chase and found out _no one_ had seen you guys the entire morning, we obviously tried here,” she finished for him with a shrug.  “Speaking of, why haven’t you bothered to change the password on the front door?”

Keith returned his attention down to a letter in his hands, lifting the mug of coffee to his lips and taking a slow sip.  “Don’t see much reason to.  It’s not like anyone but the three of us are able to give it out.  I doubt anyone wants to break in here and get written up, either.”

Pidge snorted derisively.  “I forgot that you are the epitome of practicality, Kogane.”  Sauntering into the room like she owned the place, and it could be argued that she did, the girl plopped down onto the opposite end of the couch, only very narrowly avoiding his bare feet.  “So, why weren’t you two at breakfast today?”

“Reasons,” Lance huffed, glaring at the her smug grin as he shifted himself into a more vertical position.  “Neither one of us likes having to leave to go get food when it can be helped.  We can eat whatever we want here.”

“Isn’t that the only time you two don’t have to be joined at the hip,” she asked innocently, straightening out the wrinkles in her skirt with an air of nonchalance.  “I’d have thought you’d jump at the chance to spend as much time apart as humanly possible.”

“We don’t have to be around each other if we don’t want to while here, either,” he replied tersely.  “There are password locks on the doors.  I’m pretty sure you of all people know that.”

“And yet we found you both together…” her voice trailed off, brown eyes sparkling at him with wicked glee.

Rising to his feet, he scooped up the paper with an eye roll.  No doubt it could be finished easier in a less oppressive environment.  Turning to the least obnoxiously transparent person in the room, he gestured to his door with his head.  “Come on, big guy.  I’ll show you my bedroom.”

“Er, alright,” Hunk mumbled, trailing along after him.

“That’s actually perfect.  Keith, you and I have some Head business to go over.  Can we…?”

“Sure thing,” Keith said with a shrug, polishing off the remainder of his cup in a few, quick gulps.  They, too, went off to the other bedroom.

Both doors closed with a soft click.

The moment they were inside, he threw the paper to the ground and turned to his friend with an accusatory glare.  “Do you seriously believe either of you are fooling anyone, coming in here to spy on us?”

Hunk held his hands up in a placating gesture, dark brows shooting high on his forehead.  “Woah, dude.  Relax.  I don’t think Pidge’s motives are quite as ulterior as you seem to think.  She’s just wicked observant, that’s all.  Neither of us was expecting to find you two calmly sitting around, enjoying your time in companionable silence.  You know, completely the opposite of what we’re used to.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that after you already came to me the other day with all of that nonsense… why,” he asked, crossing arms over his chest.

“You don’t have to.  I just assumed you trusted me more than that.”

Lance’s anger crumbled, instantly turning to mush.  Groaning loudly, he trudged over to his bed, falling bodily down into the mattress with a soft whoosh.  “Seriously,” he mumbled into the cool duvet, voice hardly audible through the thick, downy fabric.  “You’re going to pull that card right now?  You know I can’t argue with you when you’re all innocent, doe-eyed Hufflepuff, you jerk.”  Rolling over onto his back, he threw an arm over his face in a show of dramatics.  “Just slay me now.  It’ll be less painful, in the end.”

The bed dipped as the other sat down next to him.  “Well, since we’ve already brought the subject up...  Why _were_ you and Keith sitting around all quiet and not fighting one another?  Pidge and I made bets the whole way here, and I have to say, never once did we come up with that scenario.  Granted, her ideas were a little more on the morbid side of things, but I assumed you’d be locked away in your room all pouty because Keith didn’t want to follow you around while you graced the world with your very presence.”

“What,” he squawked, sitting bolt upright and spluttering indignantly.

Hunk grinned at him wickedly, which was either a testament to all of Hufflepuff’s inner dark side or a clear indication the Sorting Hat made terrible mistakes.  Both were equally likely.  “Is that not a typical day in the life of Lance McClain’s moody emo sidekick?  I was pretty sure this was a common occurrence for you two.”

Lance snorted derisively.  “Okay, I have to admit you have Keith down, but I’m not nearly that bad.  I like to think I spend my time spreading joy to the less fortunate, as it were.”

“Same thing.”

Falling back onto the mattress, the two dissolved into a fit of laughter.  It was warm and pleasant, and before he knew what had come over him, the well of uncertainty bubbled its way up his throat and out of his mouth.  “Hunk, am I the reason things are all fucked up right now?”

The big guy went silent almost instantly, rolling over onto his side and staring down at him with a gentle frown.  “You mean between you and Keith?”

The brown of his eyes was so intense and searching that Lance had to look away, afraid of what he might find in there.  “I don’t know.  I guess?”

“I don’t think any one person is to blame, Lance.  I think you’re both terrible to each other and continue to use the other one as an excuse for your own self-proclaimed righteous animosity.”

“But.  Do you…  Do you think that I’m the one who started it all?”

“Does it really matter who started it?”

Glancing back, the ends of his mouth curled themselves into a wry smile.  “And here I thought you were going to tell me it was obviously me that is the terrible dick and that I need to change and move on already.”

Hunk pulled a face, looking stuck somewhere between offended and reprimanding.  “The fact that you should know me better than that aside, I know who you are deep down, Lance.  I know that you’re good and nice and caring, and I am also well aware of your insecurities and doubts.  You don’t always say the right thing at the right time, but I’ll be damned if you don’t pull through and do the right thing, in the end.  You have more compassion in your heart than most people ever will.  So, no.  The only thing you need to change is the crazy idea that we don’t love you for being Lance.”

Lance sniffled loudly and wiped a fake tear from beneath his eye, if only to fight off the urge to burst into tears of pure relief.  “I’m going to need a moment after that one, big guy.”

“Bring it in for a hug,” Hunk asked, sitting upright once more and spreading his bulky arms out nice and wide.

“I think I’d like that, yeah,” he replied, following suit.

The warmth that seeped into his skin shot all the way down into his bones.

After a beat, the other spoke up, vibrations from his chest feeling like he’d decided to snuggle up with a large purring bear; which honestly wasn’t far from the truth.  “Seriously, though, I’m gonna need some answers, Lance.”

“Sh.  Don’t speak.  You’ll ruin the moment.”

“After, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it didn't feel like it, but that was indeed 7000 words. I know, I have a gift for making things long but empty of real content.  
> So??? I??? Just??? Hated??? This??? Whole??? Thing???  
> Despite liking it when I wrote it, despite the fact I'll probably like it again, later on, I really just want to plug my ears and move on from this bit.
> 
> There you go, there is my lovely 10k update in full. I give it to you with frowns and displeasure and massive amounts of self-critique. Glad we can all move past this now, hopefully coming out the other side better for it.
> 
> As always your love is appreciated and warms my heart greatly, your comments give me life and make my days brighter and happier and filled with motivation to pump out more words.  
> I am a writer, we live off comments. All comments. Any comments. ^^
> 
> The only changes are hit me up on my new writer Tumblr - Cherrywrites626  
> I'll finally be able to have my dream of posting my sneaks and random writing things, and it won't matter if no one wants to see them because I'll do it anyway. :D


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